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la  derniAre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

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derniAre  image  do  chaque  microfiche,  selon  le 
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symbolo  V  signifio  "FIN  ". 

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et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  lo  nombre 
d'images  n6cessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  m6thode. 


1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

MICROCOPY    RESOLUTION    TEST    CHART 

ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No    2 


1.0 


I.I 


1^ 

1^ 


31 

3.2 


1^ 

■  4.0 


II  2.5 

[2.2 

2.0 
1.8 


1.25 


1.4 


1.6 


^  .APPLIED  IM^GE 

:=r.  "6tJ   Easl   Moin   Siteet 

="-S  "orHester,   New   York        U609       USA 

' ""-''   482  -  0300  -  Pnoni. 

=  288  -  5989  -  Fa« 


VILLAGE  WORK? 
IN  INDIA 


%     . 


NORMAN  RUSSELL 


VILLAGE    WORK    IN    INDIA 


1 


A   -rKMl'LK    OF    >HU. 


-X 


% 


Village  Work  in  India 


PEN     PICTURES      FROM     A 
MISSIONARY  'S  EXPERIENCE 


By 
NORxMAN  RUSSELL 

0/  t'le  CiinaUa  Prtstyttrian  Church,  Central  India 


• 


FLEMING       H.       REVELL       COMPANY 
NEW  YORK  CHICAGO  TORON 10 

1902 


Copyright,         1902         by 
FLEMING  H.  REVELL  COMPANY 


THK  r  AXr^N'  PRESS 
NKW  VOKK. 


PRONUNCIATION 

Whiie  the  common  Hindi  words,  the  geo- 
graphical and  most  of  the  historical  names  have 
been  left  unmarked  and  given  their  English  spell- 
ing, most  of  the  vernacular  terms  have  been 
italicised  and  are  to  be  pronounced  according  to 
the  following  rules: 

a  has  the  sound  of  a  in  woman, 
a  has  the  sound  of  a  in  father. 
e  has  the  vowel  sound  in  grey. 
i  has  the  sound  of  i  in  p/n. 
i  has  the  sound  of  i  in  intr/gue. 
0  has  the  sound  of  o  in  bone, 
u  has  the  sound  of  u  in  bull. 
u  has  the  sound  of  u  in  rz^ral. 
ai  has  the  vowel  sound  m  briar. 


Contents 


I 

•J 


f 

The  Vision  on  Mount  Tumbai 

I! 

In  the  Valley 


PAGE 


A  Village  Audience 


Rejected 


III 


IV 


V 


Under  the  Mango  Trees 

VI 
Night  Work  in  the  Bazaar 

VII 

Against  Great  Odds     . 

VIII 
Barwai  :  An  Outstation 


20 


32 


47 


6s 


«3 


!00 


"4 


6  Contents 

IX 

How  We  Dug  the  Well 


I  ^3 


Taking  a  City 


XI 


Planting  a  Mission  Among  the  Bhils 

XII 

In  a  Tiger's  Den    .... 

XIII 

The  School  of  the  Prophets 

XIV 

When  Skies  are  Bras.^  . 


XV 


The  Problem 


.  164 
.  187 
.  iw 
.  218 
•  -239 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 


1 


FACINLi  I'AGE 

-   Title 


A  Templk  01-  Shiv    -        -        _        _        _ 

A    PlaCH    of    PiLGRlMAGK       -  -  .  _ 

Temple  Built  for  thh  Ethrnal  Place  ok 
A  Queen's  Soil      -        _        _        _ 

Woman  Grinding  Simce     -        _        .        . 

Potter  at  Work     -        -        -        _        _ 

Our  Audience  in  the  Market  Place 

The  V'li.LAGH  Schoolmaster       -        -        - 

On  t:ie  Rook  ok  Unkarji's  Temple   - 

Bllll,   SOLDIHRS   AND    A    RaW   RecRUIT    - 

A  Hindu  Holy  Man  -         -         -         . 

Guru  and  Disciples  -        _        „        _ 

One  ok  India's  Poor         -        -        -        _ 

Every    Blade    ok   Grass    Gathered    from 
Hillside  and  Hedgerow 

Famine  Boys  and  the  Carpets  They  Have 

Woven  -        -        -        _        .        -237 


48 

48 

84 

84 

105 

105 

167 

167 

206 

20b 

219 

219 


Village  Work  in  India 


THF,    VISION    ON    MOl'NT   TfMFiAI 

It  was  moinin^r.  Standing  un  one  of  the 
loftiest  spurs  of  the  Vindhyas,  we  were  looking 
down  on  the  valley  of  the  Nerbudda  2.000  feet 
below.  The  sun  had  just  cleared  the  low-lying 
mists,  and,  sweeping  up  the  long  vista,  unfolded 
a  lovely  panorama  of  miniature  lake,  dense  wcod- 
land  and  green  and  golden  grain  fields.  Behind 
us.  like  a  rampart,  stretched  out  on  either  hand 
the  great  hillsides;  while  far  away  in  the  melt- 
ing distance  rose,  in  dull  grey,  the  parallel  range 
of  the  Satpuras,  these  two  guarding,  like  loftv 
walls,  the  garden  valley  of  Nimar. 

As  the  mist  rolled  away,  there  peeped  up  out 
of  the  darkness  at  our  feet  a  group  of  humble 
villages,  mere  broken  patches  of  dull-faded 
thatch,  red  tiled  roof  ;;nd  yellow  straw  pile. 
Farther  on,  the  vapour  seemed  to  melt  into  a 
lovely  stretch  of  mango  trees,  from  among  whose 


lO 


Villa're  Work   in   India 


leaves  the  more  pretentious  whitewashed  walls 
of  Baifode  and  Parlia  glittered  in  the  morning 
sunlight.  Beyond  these,  tield  and  village  fol- 
lowed in  quick  succession,  and  so  close  together 
that  we  Could  barely  distinguish  where  the  trees 
of  one  parted  from  those  of  another.  As  the  air 
cleared  we  could  see  still  farther,  the  melting 
mist  unveiling  not  single  villages  but  groups, 
some  clustered  together  in  the  river  bottoms, 
others  banked  on  the  hillsides,  but  still  more 
fading  into  indetiniteness  against  the  greys  and 
greens  of  the  richly  clad  soil,  and  only  distin- 
guished by  some  conspicuous  temple-dome,  tank 
or  other  landmark,  well  known  to  our  guides.  It 
was  as  though  we  were  standing  on  the  shore  of 
some  great  sea  of  human  activity,  a  throbbing 
flood  of  life  and  labour;  East  and  West,  far  as  the 
eye  could  reach,  and  wide  as  to  where  in  the  ill- 
defined  distance  the  temple  tops  of  Maheshwar 
and  Mandalesar  overshadowed  the  sacred  waters 
of  the  Nerbudda,  it  stretched  in  one  ever  broad- 
ening and  denser  succession;  and  even  beyond 
our  line  of  definite  vision,  we  knew  that  for 
forty  miles  South,  far  as  the  purplish  grey  of  our 
broken  sky-line,  another  and  quite  as  densely 
populated  plain  stretched  up  from  the  farther 
river  baiik. 


The  Vision  on   Mount  Tumi 


);ii 


1  I 


The  wluMt  was  just  ripcnin^^  and  its  yellow 
patches  stood  out  in  sharp  contrast  to  the  bril- 
liancy of  the  tlowerinjj  poppy  tields,  the  b'-ij^ht 
green  of  the  sugar-tane,   and  the  darker  liucd 


ii)uiii  a 


nd  lo: 


ar. 


H 


L-re  a 


nd  tl 


lere  cultivation  was 


interrupted  by  stretches  of  rugged  jungle  or  deep 
ravines,  but  oftener  by  clun-.ps  of  noble  trees — 
mango  and  pfpat,  banyan  and  /w//— each  clump 
marking  a  village.  Right  up  into  the  rocks  of 
the  foothills  (lowed  this  sea  of  cultivation,  the 
necessity  of  man  extracting,  by  means  of  irriga- 
tion, what  unaided  Nature  refused  to  yield. 

We  looked  down  upon  one  of  the  earliest  and 
loveliest  haunts  of  man,  the  scene  of  many  a 
struggle,  many  a  battle  between  Hindu  and 
Mohammedan  powers,  many  a  Maratha  raid, 
many  a  contest  between  rival  religions,  but 
which  never,  within  the  recollection  of  his- 
tory, had  gazed  into  the  face  famine  or 
known  the  horrors  of  drouth.  It  was  one  of 
the  gardens  of  India,  far  famed  as  the  land 
of  plenty,  the  refuge  of  the  famine  stricken  and 
needy,  and  with  no  curse  but  that  which  ema- 
nated from  the  sin  and  folly  of  man.  After  the 
lirsi  rushing  glamour  of  its  beauty,  the  thought 
that  gradually  crowded  out  all  others  was  that 
beneath  each  of  these  innumerable  roof-tops  and 


12 


Village  Work   in    India 


countless  grev  thatches,  human  souls  were  work- 
inj^  out  the  probliin  of  life.  There  must  have 
been  upwards  of  a  million  of  people  in  this 
vallev,'  and  their  villages  were  grouped  together 
more  closely  than  farmhouses  in  our  well  settled 
districts  at  home.  Perhaps  the  acutest  and  most 
persistent  sensation  of  the  missionary  in  the  East, 
is  this  fever  of  millions.  From  the  very  first  day, 
out  of  the  ma/e  of  novel  sights  and  sounds — the 
blinding  sunlight,  the  oppressive  heat,  the  babel 
ot  strange  voices,  the  panorama  of  many  hued 
faces  and  costumes,  the  gesticulating  throngs  of 
coolies  and  hack  drivers,  the  strange  vehicles, 
the  little  box-like  shops  with  all  sorts  of  unknown 
articles  for  sale,  the  many  wonderful  buildings, 
but  chiefly  the  carved  stone  temples  with  for- 
bidding and  hideous  figures  peering  out  from 
their  dark   recesses— one   impression   leaps  into 

'  The  last  census  of  Ccntr.il  India  had  given  a  population  of 
10,318,812,  of  whom  9,354,274  were  returned  as  rural. 
These  latter  occupy  32,415  villages,  giving  an  average  of  288 
to  each  village,  5.2  to  each  house,  and  is  spread  over  an  area 
of  78,219  sijuare  miles.  In  the  I'rovince  of  Bengal  according 
to  the  census  of  1891,  there  were  227,000  towns  and  villages 
to  an  are.i  ai  151,000  s. piare  miles  or  nearly  two  villages  to  the 
square  mile.  In  N.  W.  1'.  and  (Judh  the  average  was  about 
one  to  the  bcjuare  mile.  With  sixty  houses  to  the  village  in 
Bengal,  and  seventy-live  in  tlie  X.  W.  P.,  this  gives  a  density 
in  the  former  province  of  over  4/0,  and  in  the  latter  of  some 
436  persons  to  the  square  mile. 


'Ilic   \'i,M()n  on   Mount   'ruiuhui 


M 


the  foreground;  it  is  the  overpowering  feeling  of 
the  almost  prodiguhty  of  human  life,  stirred  by 
the  presence  of  India's  millions. 

Well  do  1  remember  my  tirst  journey  into  the 
gre.it  Lity  of  Bombay.     The  narrow  streets  of 
the  bazaar  teemed  with  human  life  from  shop 
front  to  shop  front,  and  it  was  only  with  diffi- 
culty our  carriage  could  thread  its  way;  it  was  as 
though  we  were  navigating  some  human  Sara- 
gasso,  the  crowd  opened  to  allow  us  to  pass  only 
to  close  ill  again,  obliterating  our  track  behind. 
I  he   quickly  changing  expressions  on  their  un- 
familiar faces,  and  the  sharp,  chattering  sound  of 
their    unknown    tongues    exercised    an    almost 
hypnotic  effect,  and  we  felt  da/ed  and  helpless. 
In  travelling  up  country  this  feeling  did  not  leave 
us.     At  each   station  crowds  thronged  into  the 
third  class  carriages,   till   we  naturally  asked  if 
there  were  a  special  excursion.     But  it  is  always 
excursion   on   Indian   railways.     Later   we   fre- 
quently saw  them,  when  on  special  occasions 
tl:ey  were  gathering  to  some  religious  festival, 
packed  closely  in  long  rows  on  the  open  plat- 
form, waiting  patiently  hour  after  hour,  beneath 
•1  burning  sun  or  during  some  cold  midnight,  for 
a   special   to   be  sent  for  their  accommodation. 
When  passing  through  the  cultivated  districts, 


'4 


Vi!l;i;::f>   Work   in   India 


far  as  the  eye  could  reacli  on  cither  side  of  the 
track,  clumps  of  trees,  blending  often  one  with 
another,  announced  centres  of  human  life.  And 
when,  leaving  the  railway,  we  went  out  among 
the  villages,  the  impression  was  only  deepened; 
village  followed  on  village,  market-place  on 
market-place,  and  all  of  them,  especially  on 
bazaar  days,  thronged  with  eager  busy  crowds; 
at  festival  times  the  shrines  and  places  of  pil- 
grimage were  so  cro\s  \ed  we  could  barely  tind 
standing  room,  and  the  roads  became  practically 
impassable. 

At  first  it  was  just  their  numbers,  their  poverty 
and  seeming  wretch"  Iness  that  stirred  our  sym- 
pathies. But  after  we  had  learned  the  language 
and  come  into  direct  contact  with  the  people, 
when  we  had  entered  into  their  condition  and 
become  acquainted  with  their  joys  and  sorrows, 
we  perceived  that  they  are  more  than  mere  atoms 
of  humanity;  that  they  have  their  longings  alter 
SLTiething  higher  and  better  li'-e  ourselves;  that 
however  darkened  by  superstition  and  idolatry, 
they  have  a  capacity  for  God,  and  that  many  of 
them  are  reaching  out  after  Him.  We  perceived 
in  them,  moreover.  •'.  people  of  great  possibili- 
ties, with  characteristics  which  not  only  call  forth 
our  admiration,  but  whirh  we  feel  might  profit- 


The  Vision  on  Mount  Tumbai       15; 

ably  teach  their  lessons  to  the  more  material 
West.  But,  alas,  temptations  throng  them;  their 
whole  environment  drags  tiiem  downwards; 
their  so-called  religious  teachers  are  but  grubbing 
with  the  muckrake  like  themselves;  there  is  no 
prophet  among  them  and  no  vision  from  God; 
their  moral  ideals  are  low;  right  and  wrong  are 
measured,  not  by  eternal  principles,  but  by  con- 
formity to  rituals  and  conventionalities;  woman 
has  been  degraded;  the  poor  have  been  out- 
casted;  and  intellectual  and  spiritual  develop- 
ment cut  off. 

These  thoughts  were  in  our  mind;:  as  Vv'e 
watched  the  unfolding  panorama  of  the  valley 
beneath.  Suddenly  my  companion  called  atten- 
tion to  our  native  guides,  who,  as  if  to  give  voice 
to  our  thoughts,  had  grouped  themselves  round 
a  painted  stone,  set  up  by  some  wandering  shep- 
herd as  a  vain  protection  against  man  and  beast. 
Muttering  their  superstitious  nothings  before  this 
woodland  fetich,  they  seemed  fairlv  to  represent 
the  great  proportion  of  India's  people  in  their 
conception  of  God  and  His  relation  to  man- 
God,  if  in  their  thoughts  at  all.  too  far  off,  too 
impersonal  and  indefinite  to  be  Himself  realised, 
insensible  to  the  needs  of  His  creatures,  and  only 
manifested  in  a  legion  of  lesser  deities  of  whom 


i6 


Village   Work  in  India 


man  is  either  the  vassal  or  the  prey.  What  they 
once  knew  of  God  seems  to  have  been  forgotten 
and  they  grope  after  Him  in  vain.  There  is  no 
hope,  no  help  for  them  from  within,  and  if 
salvation  is  to  come  to  them  it  must  be  from 
without. 

It  was  this  very  helplessness  of  the  valley  that 
touched  us;  the  dumb  appeal  of  its  Christless 
multitudes  broke  upon  us  like  a  i,'reat  cry,  a  cry 
for  God— God  as  revealed  in  the  'wing  heart  of 
Christ.  And  yet  what  part  had  irist  in  the  life 
of  that  valley  ?  in  all  its  crowded  ^'iliages  there 
could  not  be  detected  a  single  church  spire  ur 
Christian  schoolhouse;  from  not  a  single  roof- 
top were  praises  ascending  to  His  Name.  Ex- 
cept for  a  few  hurried  visits  and  some  scattered 
tracts,  no  gospel  intluence  had  penetrated  the 
valley.  Away  to  the  East  Unkdrji,  the  phallic 
emblem  of  Mdhddev  (Shfv),  enthroned  in  his 
fortress  amidst  the  Nerbudda  waters,  still  held 
religious  sway  over  its  people;  and  down  by  the 
river  in  front  of  us  the  same  god  still  held  court 
for  his  countless  devotees  neath  the  temple 
domes  of  Maheshwar. 

it  seemed  as  though  in  that  hour  Christ  stood 
beside  us,  and,  like  a  burning  lava  stream,  His 
questions  poured  upon  our  conscience-stricken 


The  Vision  on  Mount  Tumbai       17 

hearts.  Had  the  poor  of  Nimar  no  claim  on  His 
gospel?  Had  He  not  come  to  release  their  cap- 
tives or  give  sight  to  their  blind?  Was  not  His 
iiherly  to  be  proclaimed  to  their  bruised?  Or 
did  we  think  the  struggle  was  hopeless,  that  the 
bones  were  so  dry  they  could  not  live?  Had 
custom  and  caste  and  hoary  superstition  grown 
so  strong  and  reared  such  mighty  bulwarks  that 
they  could  not  be  broken  ? 

Then   there   passed   before  us  a  vision.     We 
saw  that  little  company  going  forth  in  poverty 
and  ignorance  from  the  upper  room  in  Jerusa- 
lem, with  nothing  to  acclaim  them  but  the  scoffs 
and  jeers  of  the  multitude,  and  with  no  honours 
but  the  prison  house  and  the  cross.     We  saw 
them  as,  bearing  their  Evangel,  they  went  out 
over    lands   and   seas,    ever   meeting   the   same 
opposition,    ever    harried    by    the   crowd,    ever 
scourged  by  those  in  authority,  and  yet  ever  con- 
quering by  the  power  of  their  message  and  the 
spirit  that  dwelt  within  them,  entering  the  palace 
of  the  mighty  and  the  hovel  of  the  poor,  turning 
strong   men   into   children   and   little   ones   into 
mighty    warriors.      V'e    saw    the    conquering 
cweep  of  the  Gospel  down   through  the  ages, 
;is  it  sapped   the   foundations   of   empires   and 
overthrew  the  thrones  of   kings,  as  it  dragged 


i8 


Villaiie  Work  in   India 


new  nations  into  light  and  made  them  to  be 
mightier  than  the  men  of  old,  strong  in  word 
and  deed.  We  saw  it  winning  its  way  through 
Lurope,  setting  up  on  the  ruins  ot  man's  greatest 
effort  an  Empire  that  owned  for  Lord  the  de- 
spised Nazarene.  We  saw  it  transplanted  to  the 
newer  world  of  the  West,  gathering  more  lav- 
ishly the  more  liberally  it  strawed.  'Ve  s;'W  it 
again,  as  awakening  anew  to  the  great  commis- 
sion of  its  Founder,  it  sent  forth  its  emissaries  to 
the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth  to  win  its  Lord's 
inheritance  and  gath-r  out  from  the  nations  a  peo- 
ple for  His  Nam  V'e  could  even  trace  in  lines 
of  tire  its  conquering  pathway  across  the  plains 
of  India,  turning  ignorant  villagers  into  men  of 
wisdom  and  influence,  and  superstitious  idolaters 
into  children  of  light. 

Then  the  vision  turned  to  the  valley  be- 
neath. It  also  was  a  part  of  the  Lord  Christ's 
inheritance,  and  upon  its  people  He  had  set  His 
seal,  and  well  did  we  know  that  His  soul  would 
never  be  satisfied  till  He  had  gathered  them, 
with  all  their  wealth  of  patience  and  industry, 
into  His  kingdom.  We  saw  the  shrines  of  Un- 
hdrji  deserted  and  the  temples  of  Maheshwar 
crumbling  away,  creepers  wound  their  destruc- 
tive   way    over   the    places   of   the  gods,   moles 


The  \'ision  on  Mount  Tunibai 


•9 


I 


burrowed  between  their  loosening  stones,  while, 
in  the  niches  above,  b;Us  found  their  hiding- 
place;  and  in  their  stead  temples  to  the  Living 
God  crowned  each  hillside,  schoolhouses  over- 
shadowed the  market-places,  and  hospitals  and 
intirmaries  peeped  out  from  between  the  mango 
groves,  while  from  a  thousand  thousand  lips 
were  hymned  praises  to  the  True  Avatar,  the 
Christ  of  God;  peace  reigned  in  the  valley,  for 
the  hearts  of  the  people  were  tilled  with  the  love 
of  God  and  truth. 

And  there  in  the  Chris*  presence,  with  the 
halo  of  the  vision  still  around  us,  we  renewed 
our  determina'  on  to  throw  ourselves  into  the 
stream  of  God's  purpose  for  this  people;  and 
taking  one  last,  lingering  look  at  the  scene  be- 
neath, now  fading  into  indistinctness  behind  the 
haze  of  deepening  sunlight,  we  scrambled  'bwn 
the  steep  hillside,  under  overhanging  rocks  and 
through  patches  of  jungle  teak  and  h'ifinl,  to  the 
service  awaiting  us  in  the  villages  of  the  Kaun- 
as Jar. 


I 


i 


II 


IN    THE    VALLEY 

"^Kt:.'    /.T.i    huar'      (Halloa!     what's     the 

matter  ? ) 

Well  miL,'ht  we  ask,  for  as  our  tonga  (horse- 
cart)  swuil^^  round  the  curve  leading  down  to 
the   river,   a   most  disconsolate   looking   crowd 
burst  on  our  view,  three  native  preachers,  the 
cook    and   bullock-drivers.     Travel-stained  and 
mud-besmattered,  for   it   had  been  raining  the 
night   before,  they  stood   beside   the  idle  carts, 
gazing  at  what  had   once  been  an  insignificant 
stream,  but  for  some  reason,  which  we  after- 
wards discovered  to  be  a  burst  dam,  was  now 
swollen  to  a  river  torrent. 

"We  can't  get  across.  Pad,  Sahib,"  answered 
Bhagaji,  -'the  water's  too  deep  and  the  sdnuin 
(goods)  will  get  wet." 

We  had  already  suffered  that  morning  at  a 
ford  some  six  or  eight  miles  back,  from  the  rain- 
fall of  the  previous  day,  and  would  probably 
have  been  there  still,  stuck  in  the  mud,  had  it 
not  been  for  a  passing  tribe  of  Banjdrrds,  who, 

2U 


i 


In  rfie  Valley 


21 


with  ill!  their  proclivities  for  cattle  .ifting,  were 
not  averse  to  helping  the  padri  sahibs.  When 
we  had  sent  the  men  on  with  the  carts,  we  our- 
seives  remaining  to  preach  in  a  village,  it  was 
without  suspicion  of  further  trouble,  for  this  was 
not  the  rainy  season;  and  yet  here  we  were  in 
a  worse  fix  than  ever.  There  was  absolutely  no 
choice  of  roads,  for  only  in  one  piace  had  years 
of  traffic  sufficiently  worn  away  the  banks  to 
admit  of  reaching  the  river  bed. 

"Well,"  I  said,  after  ascertaining  the  full 
extent  of  our  dilemma,  "we  will  try  it  with 
the  tonga  first,"  and  suiting  action  to  the  words, 
urged  the  horses  into  the  stream.  The  water 
was  muddy  and  no  trace  of  the  original  track 
remained;  forty  feet  away  we  could  see  where 
again  the  road  climbed  from  the  river  up  the 
almost  perpendicular  bank;  but  what  lay  be- 
tween or  what  effect  tlie  torrent  had  made  on 
the  river  bed,  it  was  impossible  to  tell.  Gradu- 
ually  as  we  crossed,  the  water  rose  from  axle  to 
tonga  box,  until,  as  we  neared  the  other  side, 
where,  having  most  play,  the  stream  had  swept 
part  of  the  bank  away,  it  almost  reached  the  seat. 
The  horses  were  spurred  up  the  steep  incline 
with  whip  and  voice;  they  were  strong  and 
eager  to  obey,  struggling  at  trace  and  yoke;  but 


22 


Village  Work   in  India 


sudiienly  the  country-made  harness  gave  way, 
the  frightened  horses,  slipping  from  under  the 
yoke  dashed  madly  up  the  bank,  and  the  tmiga 
fell  back  into  the  river  bed,  tumbling  the  native 
groom  off  the  back  seat  and  carrying  us  right 
into  the  middle  of  the  swirling,  muddy  current. 

It  is  not  very  often  the  jungle  roads  are  as  bad 
as  this;  but  many  a  time  b  ■  e  we  sat  down  to 
breakfast  at  four  or  live  in  the  afternoon,  when, 
on  our  forced  marches  from  one  centre  to  an- 
other,  the  carts  have   been  delayed   or   broken 
down  on  the  way.     Sometimes  stones  axle  high 
block  the  road;   at  other  times  the  ruts  are  so 
deep  that  the  carts  and  contents  are  thrown  in 
the   ditch;    again   two  carts  meet  in  a  narrow 
defile,  where  there  is  barely  room  for  one,  and 
the  stupid,  frightened  oxen  refuse  or  are  unable 
to  back  out;  or  it  mav  be  the  cart  is  stuck  in  the 
mud,  and  the  bullocks  will  not  budge  till  the  load 
is    taken    off.     Once   we   had   our  cart   wheels 
broken  to  pieces,   descending  a   rocky  hillside, 
and  were  delayed  a  day  till  new  ones  could  be 
procured  trom  the  nearest  town.     But  these  ex- 
periences only  add  to  the  excitement  of  camp 
life  among  the  villages;  there  is  seldom  an  acci- 
dent, and  then  only  a  few  bruises,  a  sprain,  or  a 
dislocated  shoulder. 


In   rtic   N'ullt.'y 


There  was  no  little  uniuscnicnt,  among  the 
crowd  on  the  bank,  at  the  padri  sahib's  dilemma, 
as  we  scrai7iblcd  out  of  our  wet  pe/ch,  along 
Ihe  narrow,  slippery  tonga  pole  and  mto  the 
shallow  water  at  the  bank.  And  doubtless  we 
were  a  more  disconsolate  lookmg  crowd  than 
those  we  had  left  on  the  other  side;  our  horses 
scampering  wildly  over  the  fields,  our  tonga  in 
the  river,  ourselves  wet  and  muddy,  and  all  our 
goods  on  the  other  side  of  a  madly  rushing 
stream.  But  the  laughing  villagers  lent  willing 
hands,  the  gjri  (cart)  was  dragged  out,  the 
horses  were  caught,  the  harness  mended,  the 
bullock  carts  were  unloaded,  and  the  sdmdn 
carried  over  at  a  shallower  part  of  ihe  stream; 
and  after  giving  a  hakshisk  Treward)  to  our 
helpers  we  were  soon  on  the  way. 

On  reaching  camp,  we  found  that  the  usual 
pat\.o  or  halting  place  was  untenable.  The 
young  mangoes  were  in  sap,  and  the  red  ants, 
having  formed  busy  highways  from  tree  to  tree, 
bad  preempted  the  grove.  No  one  disputes  a 
roadway  more  persistently  or  backs  up  his  claim 
more  effectually  than  the  red  ant;  you  can  put 
up  with  t.  ?  white  ant,  for  he  is  satistied  with 
your  t'Mit  flaps  and  shoe  leather,  but  the  red  ant 
wants  you.     Of  the  neighbouring  groves,   one 


!H! 


24 


N'illaue   Work   in   India 


was  occupied   another  dirty,  and  a  third  had  no 
good  shade;  so  that  it  was  late  before  we  linally 
found  a  suitable   place  beneath  a  group  of  old 
forest  giants  in  the  corner  ot  a  wheat-lield,  where, 
on  a  carpet  of  dried  leaves,  we  erected  our  tents. 
We  had  the  usual  delay  in  procuring  fire-wood 
and  grass  for  the  bulls.     Though  in  the  midst  of 
trees,  we   dared  not  cut  one;  for  every  tree  is 
valuable  property  in  India,  carefully  detailed  in 
the  plan  of  the  ground,  and  not  to  be  destroyed 
without  official  perm.ssion;  and.  spite  of  being 
in  a  land  of  farmers,  none  would  sell  us  grass, 
all  supplies  having  to  be  procured,  and  some- 
times only  after  long  delay  and  much  bickering, 
from  the  headman  of  the  nearest  village.     If  so 
desired,   the    Political    Officer   will    provide  us 
with  an  order  on  all  headmen   and  thdnadars 
(police  officers;  to  furnish  us  with  what  we  need 
at  market  rates;  but  we  prefer,  if  possible,  not 
to  identify  oarselves  with  the  secular  power,  or 
lend  any  colouring  to  the  idea  that  Christianity 
is  propagated  by  compulsion;  as  it  is  we  are  not 
infrequently  suspected  of  being  in  Government 
pay.     Along  with  the  grass  and  wood  came  the 
village  clio'dchiJars  or  guards,  whom  the  Native 
States    prefer   we    should    employ   against   any 
would-be  marauder.     It  was  not  in  the  security 


In  the  Valley 


^S 


of  these  however,  but  in  the  thought  that  we 
were  the  ambassadors  of  Gnd,  undi.r  His  pro- 
tection and  on  His  mission,  tiiat,  after  a  hastily 
prepared  but  heaity  mc.il,  and  our  evening 
prayer,  we  lay  down  to  a  dreamless  sleep. 

"  AS  tak  lit  kyon  soiii  hai  ? 

Siiraj  nikld,  hud  iawtri." 
(Why  Jotli  slumber  bind  thine  eyes, 

And  sleep  thy  senses  steal  ? 
When  reddeninfj  beams,  th\\  art  eastern  skies, 

The  rising  sun  reveal  ?) 

It  was  the  preachers  at  their  morning  hymn; 
but  the  music  fails  on  already  half-awakened 
senses,  sleep  is  hastily  dashed  from  the  eyes, 
bedclothes  are  tossed  aside,  we  step  out  into  the 
cold,  bracing  air  of  a  January  morning,  and  an- 
other day's  work  is  begun.  In  one  respect  the 
words  of  the  Hindi  lyric  are  not  correct,  for  the 
sun  is  not  yet  risen  when  we  throw  aside  the 
tent  curtains  and  go  out  to  our  morning  cup  of 
tea.  Around  us  however  all  is  activity — the 
cloth  has  just  been  laid  under  a  noble  mango- 
tree,  and,  while  the  toast  is  preparing,  the  kettle 
sends  out  a  cheery  sound  from  above  the  camp- 
fire;  back  of  the  tent  the  horses  are  being 
groomed,  and  the  bullock  drivers  are  giving  their 
animals  a  hasty  meal,  preparatory  to  leaving  for 


26 


\'illa;ic   Work   in   India 


their  homes;  in  the  neighbouring  tent  the  native 
preachers  are  at  their  devotions  or  preparing 
their  bundles  of  tracts  for  the  day's  work. 

The  night  had  been  cold  and  tiu-  tea,  though 
not  a  very  substantial  preparation  tui  half  a  day's 
work,  was  very  welcome.  Then  followed  a 
short  service,  mostly  petition;  and  though  t' e 
morning  reveille  to  the  waking  village  gods  til.ed 
the  air,  and  from  the  whitewashed  mouth  of  the 
neighbouring  temple  glared  the  hideous  linea- 
ments of  a  heathen  idol,  while  gaping  unbelief 
looked  incredulously  on,  never  \\  ithin  holy  clois- 
ter or  cathedral  walls  did  God  seem  nearer  than 
at  that  altar  benealli  the  mango-trees. 

Dividing  into  two  parties,  each  led  by  a  mis- 
sionary, we  set  out  on  a  tour  of  the  neighbouring 
villages.  Down  the  main  road  between  the  cac- 
t":  h'  .'Tes,  pa?t  ^arly  moving  bullock  ti  ts,  with 
drivers  fast  asleep  on  their  loads,  ove.  ..ic  ;iver 
by  a  bridge  of  stepping  stones,  up  through  the 
midst  of  the  village  cattle  as  they  gathered  for 
their  journey  junglewards,  along  the  dusty  trail 
of  a  herd  of  buffaloes,  past  the  little  hut  where 
the  potter  was  already  fixing  his  first  lump  of  wet 
clay  to  the  wheel,  we  turned  into  the  main  street 
of  the  village,  an  uneven,  winding  roadway  of 
various  widths,  lined  with  representatives  of  the 


In  fhr   \'ailry  27 

pMsant  crafts  and  trades.  I  need  hardly  tell  you 
that  the  shop  on  the  left  belongs  to  the  village 
blacksmith,  for  even  though  you  might  nut 
rec(jgnise  the  lireplace  sunk  in  the  mud  tloor, 
nor  the  hand  bellows  made  of  two  goatskins 
and  worked  by  opening  and  shutting  the  hand-, 
you  Cduld  not  mistake  the  man  shoeing  the  over- 
turned bullock,  or  the  grimy  clothes  of  the  assist- 
ant sitting  on  the  poor  animal's  head,  or  the  ring 
of  manure-cake  ashes,  which  tells  that  the  day 
before  he  had  been  setting  a  tire.  That  row  of 
gram  baskets  on  the  low  mud  verandah,  flanked 
by  a  bag  of  salt  and  kerosene  oil  tms  tilled  with 
ghi  (butter),  is  the  bunyas  shop;  you  can  see 
his  fat.  oily  face  bending  over  tb.e  leather-bound 
account  book,  figuring  on  who  is  next  to  be 
fleeced.  The  little  box-like  shop  beyond,  strewn 
with  tin  lamps,  wooden  combs,  mirrors,  brass 
trin^c♦"  and  powders,  belongs  to  the  Borah, 
whose  chief  commodity  is  kerosene,  the  Orient's 
ubiquitous  illuminant,  and  whose  empty  t;ns 
form  one  of  the  Orient's  most  useful  friends,  be- 
ing made  into  everything  from  drinking  cups  to 
shop  doors.  In  the  big,  two-storied  place  over  the 
way,  whose  floors  are  spread  with  cushions,  sits 
Mahdjan  (money-lender)  buttoning  on  his  coat 
after  his  morning  ablutions  at  the  neighbouring 


28  Village  Work,  in   India 

well;  and  the  ash-clad  man  in  front,  with  loin- 
cloth, n.cklacc  and  begging  bowl,  is  a  wander- 
ing ScUiliti  (ascetic),  thankful  even  for  the  bad 
coins,  by  which  the  money-lender  hopes  to  add 
to  his  chances  for  salvation.  In  the  little  shop 
next  door,  ihe  goldsmith  is  getting  ready  his 
charcoal  tire  and  blowpipe,  for  the  pate!  (head- 
man) of  a  neighbouring  village  has  ordered  an 
earring  for  his  wife. 

As  we  pass  along  we  give  each  a  greeting,  in- 
viting them  to  our  meeting  in  the  open  square 
near  the  hachahri.     This   is   the   office   of  the 
Amin,  on  whom,  as  head  of  the  district,  we 
wish  to  call  and  pay  our  respects.     We  stop, 
on  the  way,   at  the  village  school,  held  on  the 
teacher's  verandah,  to  tell  the  schoolmaster  about 
our  evening  meeting;  and  he  makes  us  promise 
to  come  in  the  afternoon  and  see  the  boys.     "1  he 
gongs  and  drums  have  ceased  ere  we  reach  the 
temple,  and  presumably  the  god  is  now  awake, 
f  ir  the  priest  is  giving  him  his  morning  bath  and 
offering   of   tlowcrs,  tht    more  substantial  gills 
being  devoted  to  l!ie  priest's  own  use.     Like  the 
majority  of  the  temples  in  Nimar  valley,  it  is 
dedicated   to   Mdlhidcv   {Sliiv).   and   contains  a 
phallic  emblem  and  an  image  of  AnaiuiiXhe  Bull. 
By    this   time  the   whole  village   is   life   and 


a 


In  the   N'allcy 


29 


bustle.  The  herdsman  is  gathering  the  remain- 
ing cattle  from  their  shelters  on  the  verandahs  or 
within  the  houses  of  their  owners;  the  house- 
wives with  little  palm-Icaf  brooms  are  sweeping 
out  their  homes,  only  to  allow  the  filth,  however, 
to  gather  at  their  less  tidy  neighbour's  doorstep, 
or  in  the  middle  of  the  roadway;  for  sanitation 
of  any  kind,  is  a  word  the  villager  cannot  spell; 
some  of  the  younger  women  are  away  with 
their  brass  water-pots  to  the  well,  or  for  their 
morning  bath  to  the  village  tank;  others  are  still 
grinding  at  the  mills,  or  making  manure-cakes 
for  next  day's  fuel.  Of  the  men,  some  few 
are  off  to  their  work  m  the  fields,  but  mo.st,  now 
the  busy  season  is  nearly  over,  sit  warming 
themselves  in  the  sun,  thawing  out  the  midnight 
cold,  and  midst  spasmodic  gossip,  passing  the 
chilam  (pipe)  soienmly  from  mouth  to  mouth. 
The  village  barber  is  on  his  rounds  with  razor 
and  water-pot,  attending  to  his  patrons  wherever 
found.  A  little  group  is  gathered  round  the  vil- 
lage sage  and  astrologer,  an  aged  Brahmin  bub- 
bling over  with  Hindu  lore.  E.xcept  for  the  few 
better  class  boys,  who  are  at  school,  most  of  the 
children  are  in  evidence,  some  few  basking  in 
the  sun  between  their  fathers'  i.nees,  others 
munching  scraps  of   cold  chapdti  (unleavened 


>' 


30 


Vilh-n-C 


Work    in   India 


cake),  and  many,  especially  the  girls,  runnii  in 
the  tracks  ot  the  cattle  to  gather  material  fur  the 
family  fuel. 

Could  we  get  behind  the  walls  and  see  within 
these   homes,  a   plain   interior  would   meet  our 
eyes.     Some    houses    of    the    shopkeepers   and 
officials  are  double-storied  and  whitewashed,  but 
in  most  villages  these  aie  not  to  be  found.     Tlie 
well-to-do  f.irmer  has  his  courtvard,  with  per- 
haps a  terraced  tree  in  the  centre,  a  shed  for  his 
cattle  and  implements,  and  the  rest  divided  off 
into  lining  and  store  rooms,     in  this  valley,  where 
so  many  peoples  have  met,  there  is  little  conform- 
ity, but  most  of  the  homes  are  simple,  with  Init 
one,  it  mav  be  two  rooms  and  a  \  erandah.     The 
house  is  usually  clean;  a  rude  stone  mill  occupies 
one  corner,  the  mud  fireplace  another,  and  a  few 
brass  vessels  stand  against  the  wall;  a  box  for 
extra  clothing  and  the  rolls  of  bedding,  consist- 
ing of  grass  mat  .ind  c]uilted  cotton  rugs,  com- 
plete the  furnishings,     in  some  houses  there  is  a 
basket   or  clay  receptacle   for  grain,  or  a  small 
pvramid  of  earthen  pots;  and  some  few  give  a 
niche  to  their  f.ivourite  god  or  hang  his  picture 
on  the  wall. 

It  had  been  our  intention  to  call  on  the  /hiiln, 
who  in  this  village  took  precedence  of  the  ordi- 


In  the   Valley 


3» 


nary  patcl,  and  hold  our  meeting  on  the  villa.rre 
square  in  front  of  the  saraj  or  travellers'  rest 
house;  but  on  turning  round  a  corner,  past  the 
drink  shop,  with  its  black  bottles  and  broken 
glasses  set  out  on  a  brilliantly  covered  stool,  in 
front  of  the  liquor  keg,  we  found  the  usu  illy 
quiet  verandah  and  low-roofed  shop  of  the  vil- 
lage carpenter  crowded  with  men,  seated  in 
groups  on  floor,  wood-pile  or  half-finished  cart 
wheels,  smoking  and  gossiping.  We  stopped 
to  enquire  and  thus  found  our  lirst  audience. 


Ill 


A  VILLAGE  AUDIENCE 


There  had  been  a  death  in  the  carpenter's 
house  an'  the  caste  people  for  miles  around,  to 
the  number  of  about  two  lumdrcd,  liad  gathered 
for  two  or  three  days  feasting. 

What  a  strange  anomaly  and  tyrannical  auto- 
crat is  custom  in  India,  lording  it  over  conscience, 
intellect  and  even  the  fear  of  state  decree.  A  few 
days  before  in  a  neighbouring  village,  a  woman 
lay  dying.  "Why  don't  you  get  some  medicine 
for  her?"  a  Christian  asked.  "  IVdli,  Bdbd,"  re- 
plied the  husband,  "what  can  1  do.''  1  have  no 
money."  And  for  want  of  a  few  pice  worth  o*" 
medicine,  he  made  no  effort  to  save  hei.  Up- 
wards of  two  hundred  people  gathered  to  the 
funeral  feast,  which  cost  him  some  Rs.  7S0 
(S2=io),  and  for  which,  probably,  he  was  obliged 
to  mortgage  not  only  all  he  was  worth,  but  his 
productiveness  for  years  to  come,  becoming  in 
f.Kt  the  virtual  slave  of  the  money-lender.  And 
yet  he  dared  not  refuse;  bound  by  a  conserva- 
tism that  counts  it  almost  sacriligeous  to  change 

32 


A  \'il 


lagc   Audience 


33 


the  tools  of  his  father's  trade',  the  poor  Hindu  is 
the  creature  of  custom.  To  ail  our  counsels 
against  extravagance  at  wedding  and  funeral 
feasts,  there  is  one  reply:  "  dastilr  hai,"  (it  is 
custom).  From  such  a  decision  there  is  prac- 
tically no  appeal;  whether  it  be  good  or  bad, 
whether  to  advantage  or  disadvantage,  the  fact 
that  it  is  the  recognised  custom  is  the  final 
arbitrament. 

The  story  is  told  of  a  village  washerman,  who, 
instead  of  dividing  his  bundle  of  clothes  and  lay- 
ing it  across  his  bullock's  back,  put  all  thee'  )thes 
on  one  side,  and  balanced  them  by  hanging  a 
millstone    on    the   other.      When   remonstrated 
with  he  replied,  to  the  satisfaction  of  all,  it  is 
said,   "It  is  the  custom  in  our  family,  thus  did 
my  forefathers  and  so  do  !."     With  the  Hindu 
what  : ..  is  right,  the  present  cannot  be  superior 
to  the  past;  the  age  of  wisdom  and  plenty  is  in 
the  memory  of  his  forefathers,  when  the  seas 
flowed  with  milk  and  sugar-cane  juice,  and  the 
m7//,s-  (sages)  talked  with  the  gods.     And  so  in 
every  detail  of  life,  whether  it  be  in  the  ir.ore  public 
ceremonies  connected  with  marriage  and  death, 
or  in  the  conducting  of  the  ordinary,  daily  house- 
hold atfairs.  the  despot  of  custom  holds  uncon- 
tested sway.     For  the  individual  to  light  it  is  to 


34 


Village    Woik    in    India 


contend  with  the  sea;  it  is  hoary  with  age,  in- 
vincible in  strength,  bred  into  the  very  bone  and 
sinew  of  Hindu  society,  and  paralyses  every  in- 
stinct to  change  and  progress. 

The  company  gathered  on  the  carpenter's  ve- 
randah were  all  of  one   caste.     No  matter  how 
closely  his  neighbours  may  have  been  associated 
with  hiin   trom  childhood,  nor  what  charitable 
service  may  have  bound  them  to  him,  he  would 
no  more  think  of  inviting  them  to  a  feast  than 
the  aborigines  roaming  in  the  jungle;  the  guests 
were  present  by  authority  of  their  caste  connec- 
tion.    If  the  Hindu's  hands  are  tied  by  custom, 
his  feet  are  bound  by   its  fellow  despot  caste. 
Separated  into  an   innumerable  number  of  com- 
munities, which  even  in  this  little  village  would 
number  more  than  a  score,  they  cannot  eat  to- 
gether, drink  of  the  same  vessel,  intermarry  or 
have  any  social  relationship. 

Caste  exercises  a  social  tyranny,  its  ligorous 
laws  entering  into  every  detail  of  life,  "ordain- 
ing," says  Dr.  Wilson,  "methods  of  sucking, 
sipping,  drinking  and  eating;  of  washing, 
anointing;  of  clothing  and  ornamenting  the 
bodv;  of  sitting,  rising,  reclining,  moving, 
travelling,  speaking,  reading,  etc.  ...  it 
has  laws  for  social  and  religious  rights,  privileges 


I 


I 


A  X'illage  Aiuiicnce  oe 

and  occupations;  .  .  .  fur  cnnrs.  sins,  trans- 
f,Messions.  .  .  .  It  iinfukis  the  way  of  com- 
niittin,t,'  vvlut  it  calls  sins,  accumulating  sin,  and 
of  putting  away  sin.  ...  It  interferes,  in 
short,  with  ull  the  relations  and  events  of  life, 
and  with  what  precedes  and  follows,  or  what  is 
supposed  to  precede  and  follow  life.     .     .     ." 

Caste  has  its  apologists,  even  without  the  pal-^ 
of  Hinduism;   nor  has  it  been  witiiout  certain 
advantages,  watching  over  the  interests  of  those 
in  its  own  guild,   securing   them   from  outside 
cuinpetiti(>n,    and    assuring     by    generations   of 
heredity  a   certain    excellence    in   labour;    it  has 
also  been  adv(,)cated  on  the  ground  tjf  the  sani- 
tariness     of     its     regulations     and    the    respect 
it  creates   for  those   in  authority.     But  though 
caste  may    have  served   a  temporary   purpose, 
perhaps  a  wise  purpose,  it  has  long  ago  passed 
beyond  the  .stage  of  being  an  element  in  the  de- 
velopment of  the  race,  and  become  senile,  cor- 
rupt  and    bigoted.     It  is  the  tool  of  the  priests 
at-.J    religious   leaders,   the   readv  instrument  of 
family  quarrels  and  jealousies  and  the  strongest 
opponent  of  Christianity.     1  have  known  a  poor 
farmer,  into  whose  well  some  passing  stranger 
had  dipped  his  drinking  cup.  compelled,  because 
some  jealous  neighbour  h.id   reported  him,   not 


36 


ViUa-fc-   Work   in   India 


nnlv  to  h.tvr  it  emptied  ;hu1  puiilicd  by  the  Riah- 
inins,  but  aUo  l"  soiUhc  the  f>tfciuled  fcelinjis  of 
his  caste  by  providing  a  rainuu^  teast.     On  an- 
other occasion,  in  one  of  our  villages,  a  paiuluivat 
(caste  committee)  met  at   the  dictation  of  some 
religious  fanatic,  for  some  three  days,  to  appor- 
tion punishment  to  a  man  whose  ox  had  acci- 
dentallv  strangled  itself  in  the  stall.     It  is  a  com- 
mon sight  at  railway  stations  or  on  the  roadside, 
to  see  a  man  carefully  polishing  the  outside  of 
his  lota  (drinking  cup)  before  drinking,  without 
giving  a  thought  to  the  cleanliness  of  the  inside 
or  the  puritv  of  the  water.     The   treatment  of 
Christian  converts  by  such  a  system  can  well  be 
imagined;  they  are  refused,  at  least  in  the  Native 
States,   the   use   of  the  well .,  are  outcasted  by 
their  relatives,  generally  deprived  of  their  means 
of  livelihcod.  and  subjected  to  innumerable  petty 
persecutions. 

Caste  has  its  phvsical  evils  in  early  marriages 
and  inbreeding;  it  hinders  social  and  commercial 
intercourse;  it  is  opposed  to  progress  and  general 
education,  to  individual  liberty  and  national  pa- 
triotism; it  paralyses  any  outflow  of  generosity 
to  those  without  its  own  community,  fostering 
almost  unparalleled  selfishness.  But  its  gravest 
fault  is  in  the  wrong  perspective  it  gives  of  the 


A   X'ilhige  Audience 


37 


obligations  and  sanctities  of  life.  VVIiile  magni- 
fying .U-inormaiiy  the  petty  peccadilloes  against 
caste  observances,  it  is  practically  blind  to  acts  of 
sometimes  gross  immorality,  of  incontinence, 
untruth  and  injustice,  especially  against  the 
members  of  other  castes.  Where  such  evils 
have  been  practiced  with  impunity,  so  far  as 
they  affect  a  iiian's  caste  relations,  the  taking  of 
a  glass  of  water  from  an  European  would  have 
been  visited  with  severe  punishment.  Practically 
the  laws  of  caste,  oftentimes  undelined  and  rep- 
resenting merely  the  prejudices  of  a  temporary 
paiiclhivat,  have  been  set  up  in  the  place  of  con- 
science, and  made  to  define  the  morality  of 
India,  a  petty,  seltish  prejudice  usurping  the 
place  of  the  Spirit  of  God.  As  Sir  Henry  Maine 
has  well  said,  "Caste  is  the  most  disastrous  and 
blighting  of  all  human  institutions." 

Could  we  have  entered  into  the  lives  of  these 
village  carpenters,  gathered  from  manv  quarters. 
we  would  have  found  in  them  a  remarkable 
sameness.  Centuries  of  slavery  to  caste  and 
custom  have  produced  in  the  villagers  of  India  a 
dull,  colourless  monotony  of  life  and  purpose, 
with  no  sparkle  of  individuality.  Slow  and 
easy-going,  they  take  no  account  of  time,  chroni- 
cling events  by  some  Hood,  famine  or  great  ca- 


38 


Village   Work   in    Iinlia 


tastroplic.  Farmer  or  carpenter  by  caste,  the 
thougin  of  being  anything  else  never  enters  their 
mind.  They  take  life  as  it  comes,  joy  or  sorrow, 
plenty  or  poverty,  with  an  indifference  that  is 
almost  philosophical.  "Jo  hogd  so  hogd  "  (what 
will  be  will  be)  is  their  fatalistic  explanation  of 
every  providence,  leaving  no  room  for  ambition, 
perseverance  in  right  or  opposition  to  wrong. 
And  yet  if  the  Hindu  has  any  ideal  it  is  that  he 
should  be  thought  religious.  He  is  a  bigoted 
idolater,  reverencing  the  very  ud  platform 
surrounding  the  ugly,  red-painted,  often  shape- 
less stone,  that  stands  for  the  village  god,  no  one 
could  be  more  punctilious  in  the  observance  of 
religious  rites  or  more  faithful  in  attendance  on 
religious  festivals;  and  his  increasing  desire,  as 
he  grows  older,  is  to  make  a  pilgrimage  to  one 
of  the  great  religious  shrines. 

These  paradoxes  of  his  ch.iracter  tlnd  their  ex- 
planation in  a  subtle  pantheism,  underlying  all 
his  religious  thinking,  which  seems  woven  into 
the  very  warp  and  woof  of  his  being,  colouring 
not  only  every  thoLight  but  every  action.  It  ob- 
literates the  lines  between  moral  good  and  evil, 
completely  dulling  the  conscience.  To  him  sin 
is  not  an  offense  against  God,  but  the  infringe- 
ment of  the  c mventionalities  of  caste;  and  sal- 


A   N'illa'rr  Audience 


39 


vation  is  not  a  complete  fellowship  with 
God  through  the  elimination  of  evil,  but  an 
absorption  into  Brahma  throuj^h  the  oblitera- 
tion of  all  the  attributes  of  self-consciousness, 
moral  and  intellectual,  whether  good  c" 
evil. 

Most  varied  have  been  the  descriptions  of  Hindu 
character,  from  "  the  bravest  of  Asiatics,  remark- 
able forsimplicity  and  integrity,"  to  those,  among 
whom  "there  is  no  degree  of  cruelty,  no  excess 
of  vice,  no  hardened  profligacy,  no  ineffable 
abomination,  ot  which  we  cannot  find  examples." 
Not  only  is  there  injustice,  however,  in  the  appli- 
cation of  western  standards  to  the  liast,  but  no 
general  description  of  character  would  be  true  of 
the  whole  three  hundred  millions  of  India's 
people.  There  is  much  in  them  to  be  admired 
as  well  as  much  to  be  deplored.  While  indus- 
trious, patient,  respectful  to  parents,  charitable 
and,  on  the  whole,  free  from  the  gross  material- 
ism of  the  West,  their  moral  ideals  are  low;  and 
the  lack  of  truthfulness,  honestv,  mutual  con- 
fidence and  gratitude  is  so  marked  as  to  be  ac- 
counted characteristic  of  the  people.  The  degra- 
dation of  woman,  with  all  its  immoral  fruits, 
neglect  of  the  poor,  and  tyranny  on  the  part  of 
those  in  power,  are  the  natural  outcome  of  a  re- 


40 


\'illa<rt.'   Work   in   Iiulia 


ligiori  which  sanrtions  gross  iiiipuntics  in  its 
gods  and  the  evils  of  caste. 

But  whether  we  view  the  Hindu  from  the 
standpoint  of  their  needs  or  their  potentiahties, 
our  responsibility  is  the  same  for  giving  them 
the  only  power  which  will  supply  the  one  or 
develop  the  other.  Their  characteristic  faults 
are  deep  rooted,  resting  in  their  wrong  concep- 
tions of  God  and  sin.  So  far  from  their  religion 
being  a  spiritual  dynamic  to  lift  them  upwards, 
it  is  mainly  responsible  for  dragging  them  down, 
tver  substituting  conformity  to  code  for  loyalty 
to  principle,  and  the  authority  of  the  priesthood 
for  that  of  conscience,  Hinduism,  except  for  oc- 
casional spasmodic  efTorts,  has  been  a  constant 
retrogression  from  the  m-  totheism  of  the  earliest 
V'edas  to  the  gross  polytheism  of  the  Puranas. 

The  needs  of  the  Hindu,  however,  are  not 
summed  up  in  new  ideals,  new  views  of  God, 
sin,  and  man's  relationship  to  God;  his  greatest 
need,  as  the  many  abortive  attempts  at  regenera- 
tion on  the  part  of  Indian  reformers  have  shown, 
is  spiritual  power — Life — Life  as  it  is  in  Jesus 
Christ.  And  it  is  the  revelation  of  this  life,  the 
gospel,  which  is  the  "  power  of  God  unto  sal- 
vation to  every  one  that  believeth  "  for  the  Hindu 
as  well  as  the  Anulo-Saxon. 


A  X'lIl.i'Tt'  Audience 


4» 


As  we  stopped  on  tlie  roadway  in  front  of  the 
carpi'iitfrs  shop,  the  ciowd  swarnied  aioiind  us, 
doubtless  attracted,  in  the  first  place,  b\  the 
novel  si,uht  of  my  bicycle.  V\'c  had  no  need  to 
force  our  message;  in  fact  it  is  a  contradiction  of 
terms  to  speak  of  "forcing  the  gospel";  if  the 
propagation  of  Protestant  Christianity  is  indi- 
vidualised by  any  principle,  it  is  that  of  a  per- 
sonal and  absolutely  free  acceptance.  Wj  neither 
enter  their  houses  nor  invade  their  temples,  we 
do  not  (Taunt  our  message  defiantly  in  their 
sacred  places;  but  standing  on  a  street  corner,  or 
in  the  market-plac.-,  or  seated  by  special  invita- 
tion on  one  of  their  broad  verandah.^;,  in  accor- 
dance with  the  custom  of  {hen  own  ,£[ur lis  (teach- 
ers) for  ages,  we  expound  our  teaching.  The 
gospel  contains  its  own  dynamic,  and  thrust  like 
a  loadstone  into  a  village  crowd,  it  draws  around 
it  those  for  whom  it  has  some  peculiar  affmity. 

The  occasion  of  mourning  suggested  the  sub- 
ject of  our  talk.  Nowhere  is  Hinduism  a  more 
terrible  failure  than  in  the  presence  of  great  grief; 
for  these  sorrowing  people  it  had  no  hope;  their 
loved  one  had  passed  on  out  of  their  ken, 
whirled  upon  the  endless  wheel  of  rebirths  into  a 
new  sphere,  where  no  memory  of  the  past  re- 
mained.    But  we  did  not  talk  to  them  of  Hindu- 


42 


\'illa<:f    Work    in    India 


ism,  or  of  the  i^'ods  ;nid  th  jr  stony  gaze,  but  of 
tl'-"  t,'i(.':it  luMit  lit  (jiid  .IS  lovcalt'd  it!  the  git  I  of 
His  Son.  of  tlie  de.ilh  v\iiijh  conquered  death, 
and  of  a  life  everhisting— the  true  niukti  (salva- 
tion). It  is  not  iconoclasm  the  Hindu  needs,  but 
a  positive  message,  a  glint  of  the  sunshine  of 
('lod's  love,  and  an  escape  from  the  stifling  at- 
mospheie  of  his  vain  attempts  at  self-righteous- 
ness, ^nd  as  we  delivered  unto  them  the  mes- 
sage, "how  th.it  Christ  died  for  our  sins,  accord- 
ing to  the  Scriptures,  and  that  He  was  buried, 
and  that  He  rose  again  the  third  day,"  we  could 
see  an  interest  creeping  over  the  faces  of  many. 
Some  it  may  be  were  oniv  curious,  but  that 
young  man  who  has  allowed  the  ckilam  (pipe) 
to  pass  unnoticed,  that  intelligent  looking  fellow 
who  bids  his  neighbour  be  quiet  while  the 
padri  sahib  is  speaking,  and  the  old  man  with 
soul  hunger  in  his  eves,  who  pauses  on  his 
err.iiid  at  tlie  outskirts  of  the  crowd,  have 
thoughts  stirring  within  them  that  are  secrets 
between  them  and  God. 

True  it  is  difficult  to  get  behind  the  stolid 
counten.mces  of  an  oriental  audience,  to  separate 
interest  frtun  curiusitv  and  l.iv  bare  the  thoughts 
of  their  hearts.  To  some  such  a  service  may 
seem  as  water  spilled  in  the  sand;  they  would 


A  \'illafr<'  Audience 


43 


counsel  us  to  train  and  teach,  to  lift  men  froni 
their  degradation,  before  coinmitting  unto  them 
the  oracles  of  God.  But  after  all  the  general 
principles  of  mission  methods  are  not  so  much  a 
matter  of  opinion  as  of  revelation.  Life,  as  it  is 
in  Christ,  is  not  a  system  of  accretions,  but  a 
growth;  it  has  its  beginnings  in  the  mystery  of 
birth,  springing  out  of  an  implanted  seed.  In 
the  Galilean  ministry  of  our  l_rd,  in  the  service 
of  the  early  apostles,  whether  among  the  Jews 
of  Jerusalem  or  the  idol-wurshippcrs  of  Rome 
and  the  provinces,  "it  pleased  God  by  the  fool- 
ishness of  preaching,  to  save  them  that  believe." 
Doubtless  some  seed  will  fall  by  the  wayside, 
and  some  on  stony  ground;  but  the  work  of  the 
missionary  is  one  of  faiib;  we  sow  in  all  seasons 
and  beside  all  waters,  we  have  personal  dealings 
with  but  few  of  those  who  hear  us,  we  tabulate 
no  results,  we  commit  the  interested  ones  to  no 
church  or  society;  we  deliver  the  message  and 
leave  its  germination  to  God. 

After  bidding  farewell  to  the  carpenters,  we 
preached  to  two  other  audiences  in  different 
parts  of  the  village,  besides  paying  a  visit  to  the 
kaclialni  to  call  on  the  .•'»;///.  Where  the  \il- 
lages  are  laige,  we  often  give  tlie  wliole  d.iy,  or 
two  or  three  days,  even  a  week,  to  one  place; 


44 


Village  Work   in   India 


but  more  frequently  we  are  forced  to  reach 
several  small  villages  in  the  same  day.  Although 
during  the  touring  season,  unl-.-ss  when  travel- 
ling, we  hold  at  least  five,  sometimes  seven  and 
more  meetings  a  day,  we  do  not  bring  more 
than  ten  per  cent,  of  the  villages,  or  six  per  cent, 
of  the  people  wuhin  sound  of  the  gospel  during 
the  whole  year. 

As  far  as  possible,  the  preaching  is  followed 
up  by  the  sale  of  tracts,  the  occasional  visit  of  a 
native  Christian  and  the  recurring  annual  visit  of 
the  missionary.  Even  so,  1  have  been  forced  to 
hear  (ron-,  the  lips  of  the  villagers  themselves: 
"  Padri  Sahib,  you  come  often  enough  to  shake 
our  faith  in  Hinduism  and  interest  us  in  Chris- 
tianity, but  not  enough  to  enable  us  to  under- 
stand ii."  it  is  :ot  ambition  to  cover  large  terri- 
tory or  preach  :  o  large  numbers  that  takes  us  on 
these  long  tours;  frequently  we  have  personal 
invitntions  to  visit  distant  centres;  the  Macedo- 
nian appeal  seems  ever  beckoning  us  on,  and  the 
sleepless  missionary  spirit  cannot  rest  while  out 
in  the  regions  beyond  some  soul  may  be  waiting 
for  the  message. 

Some  would  counsel  us  to  conline  our  uork 
to  a  limited  number  and  teach  these  well.  But 
who  can  c(^ntine  the  Spirit  of   God  ?    On  this 


A  V'ilhi'^c  Audience 


45 


very  morning  as  we  left  the  carpenter's  shop,  a 
man  came  forward  to  greet  us;  he  reminded  us 
of  our  visit  of  two  years  before  and  the  address 
we  gave;  it  had  taken  such  a  hold  on  him.  he 
could  remember  almost  the  whole  of  it.     An- 
other brought  out  the  copy  of  a  little  tract  he 
had  bought  on  the  same  occasion,  whose  well 
thumbed   pages   showed   how   carefully   it   had 
been  studied.     Just  a  few  days  before,  we  had 
preached  in  a  neighbouring  village  for  the  tirst 
time.     At   the   close   of   our  address  the  better 
part  of  our  audience  followed   us  out  about  a 
mile  on  the  roadway  to  plead  that  we  would 
return  again  soon.     Among  our  preaching  party 
on  this  very  occasion,  was  a  young  man  who 
had  himself  been  arrested  in  a  mad  career,  and 
finally  brought  to  Christ,  by  just  one  such  service 
in  a  distant  village.     Some  of  the  brightest  con- 
verts we  have  are  the  fruits  of  a  chance  visit  to 
some  distant  village  on  the  part  of  a  missionary 
or  native  preacher.     I  have  known  the  gospel 
preached  almost  weekly  and  even  schools  held 
continuously  for  upwards  of   fifteen  years  near 
to  my   own   station   with   less   result.     On  the 
other  hand   invitations   to  come  and   preach  in 
some  distant  part  of  the  field  rem.iin  uncomplied 
with  because  of  distance  and  lack  of  labourers. 


•"7^ 


46 


age   Work    in    Inclia 


It  is  in  the  face  of  sikh  facts  we  have  to  solve 
the  problem  of  the  evangelisation  of  these  dis- 
tricts. "The  things  of  God  knovvcth  no  man, 
but  the  Spirit  of  God."  The  destiny  wrapped 
up  in  one  seed  from  the  Word  of  God  only  He 
can  reveal;  the  Pauls  and  Peters,  who  are  to 
awaken  India  to  a  knowledge  of  God  in  Christ, 
may  be  waiting  still  in  some  village  as  yet  un- 
touched by  the  sound  of  the  gospel.  Ours  is  to 
obey  the  command  and  preach  to  all  creatures, 
His  to  convict  and  choose  the  fruit.  Moreover 
all  are  needy,  Christ  died  for  all,  the  buad  .may 
be  little  and  the  child len  many,  but  who  will 
forbid  that  all  should  have  a  share  ? 


IV 


RFIECTED 

Maheshwar  is  a  .fcvsthan~,x  place  of  the  gods 
-and  well  It  IS  named.     Issuing  out  of  the  nar- 
row roadway  on  to  the  riverside  in  front  of  the 
fortress   of  Ahihbai,  a    massive   pile  of  palaces 
turrets  and  temple  domes,  we  seemed  to  have 
dropped  into  a  verv  Pantheon  of  the  gods.     He- 
1^1"^  the  beantifu:  temple  doors  above,  attended 
•ind     guarded    bv    AnanJi    the  bull.     M.ihd.h'v 
{Shiv),  the  spiritual  lord  of  Nimar,  represented  by 
tlie   forbidding   /,/;;„,,,    sat   enshrined   in  purest 
"larble:   on    either  side   the   great    temple   was 
flanked    by  lesser  ones,   crowded  u-,th   hideous 
■dols;   down   the   broad   stone   terrace,  that  f.r 
nearlv  one  hundred  yards  paved  the  ,/;./  (plat- 
form) in  front  of  the  fortress,  the  eye  swept  alon.^ 
an  almost  unbroken  row  .-f  shnnes  and  imaoes^ 
•^■vcn  upon  the  beautiful  stairw.iv,  which,  lik'e  a' 
'^"l^'d    edging,    runs    the    whole    Icnt^th    of  the 
terrace,  leading   the    U'orshippers   down    to   the 
lapping  waters  of  the  Nerbudda.  idols  had  found 
'l>e.r  resting-place;  at  the  street  comers  and  in 

47 


iS 


\'illa;fc   Work,    in    India 


the  markct-placo  of  the  town  above,  temple  fol- 
li)\vi.-(.l  slirine  in  leheviiii,'  the  monotony  of  bunva 
and  incense  shops;  and  in  the  groves  about  our 
camp  the  temple  bells  clanged  noisily,  and  well- 
fed  priests  muttered  their  solemn  mantras — truly 
this  was  a  place  of  the  gods. 

Yet  with  all  that  was  heathenish,  the  riverside 
presented  a  beautiful  scene.  Far  up  behind  the 
fortress  walls  perched  the  old  palace  of  Ahilibai," 
the  renowned  queen  of  the  Holkar  dynasty, 
whose  reign  was  far  famed  for  its  justice  of  rule 
and  its  many  public  works.  In  front  of  this  lay 
the  temple,  built  for  the  eternal  peace  of  her  soul, 
a  monument  of  carved  stone,  surrounded  with 
beautiful  gateways;  and  ;ill  fronted  with  a  m:ig- 
niticent  facade,  a  dream  in  sandstone  of  lattice- 
work and  many  pillared  galleries,  sweeping  dov/n 
a  grand  sta:,-w.iv  on  to  the  stone  terrace  of  the 
f^liat  below.     Up  and   down  this  stairway  and 

'  The  (I.uiKliter  in-law  of  Mulh.ir  \\^o  Ilulkar.  'ibis  remark- 
able wnnum,  when  luisbaiid  .iiul  son  were  botli  dead,  asserted 
bcr  rigbt  to  rcij^n,  and  for  thirty  ye.irs  gave  to  the  State  of 
Indore  a  perKnl  of  peace  and  pros])crity.  Slie  took  a  grea:  in- 
terest in  her  people,  hearing  all  complaints  in  person,  and  was 
noted  for  her  charity  an<l  devotion.  She  it  was  who  built  the 
city  of  Indore,  and  hewed  out  of  hill  and  forest  the  great  high- 
way, which,  from  the  jircseiit  capital,  leads  over  the  brow  of 
the  Viiidhya'^,  tlirough  the  Jam  gate,  down  to  tlie  old  capital 
of  Maheshwar. 


i:  ■/. 


:  y. 


Rrj(>rtP(I 


49 


across  the  pLitfoiiii  tinted  white  robed  Brahmins; 
armed  sepoys  uu.irded  e.ieh  .ippruach;  while 
iilon-j,  the  river  steps  thronged  a  crowd  of  busy 
women,  chattering  and  laughing  as  they  went 
about  their  duties,  some  at  their  ablutions,  others 
washing  clothes,  but  most  coming  and  going  to 
fill  their  shining  brass  water-pots,  and  all  pausing 
as  they  p.issed  to  mutter  a  few  words  of  worship 
at  one  of  the  many  shrines.  It  was  an  ever- 
changing  kaleidoscope  of  manv  hues  and  colours 
— shining  vessels.  laughing  faces,  bright  flutter- 
ing garments  and  twinkling  brown  feet.  But  out 
on  the  river,  their  horned  backs  and  protruding 
snouts  lying  like  logs  on  the  water,  the  hungrv 
alligators  waited  for  their  prev.  while  up  in  the 
temples,  behind  latticed  windows,  watched  the 
priests. 

Idolatry  has  its  apologists  even  to-day.  The 
Marathii,  a  Hindu  paper,  says,  "  Even  the  most 
advanced  reformer  cannot  pretend  to  say  that 
every  human  being  is  capable  of  conceiving  a 
formless  divine  being.  Our  ancestors  perceived 
this  and  hence  recommended  ditTerent  sorts  of 
worship  for  different  sorts  of  people.  As  m 
every  other  department,  the  law  of  evolution 
must  be  applied  also  in  religion."  What  are  the 
facts  }    There  was  a  time,  in  the  \edic  period  of 


-O  Villagf   Work   in   India 

Indian  h\sU>ry.  when  idol  worship  was  unknown, 
when,  as  one  ot  her  own  sons  says,  •'India  sanp 
the  glorv  ..f  the  l.ternal  Spirit,  the  P.iu'u  Atmdr 
But  with   the   introduction   of    I'uranic  idolatry, 
with  the  attempt  to  clothe  human  images  with 
divinity  and  change  the  glory  of  the  uncorruptible 
God  into  an  image  made  like  to  corruptible  man, 
there  came  a  fall.     "  As  we  roll  down  the  stream 
of  time,-  savs  Kcshub  Chunder  Sen,  "  from  an- 
cient t..  modern  India,  we  arc  indeed  grieved  to 
find   how,  amidst  successive  changes,  a  higher 
and  purer  faith  has  gradually  degenerated  into 
debasing  forms  of  idolatry  and  superstition,  and 
how,  in  consequence  of  the  later  corruptions  of 
Hinduism,  the  country  has  gone  down  century 
after  centurv  in  a  course  of  moral  and  spiritual 
decadence.-     In  the  writings  of  Abbe  Dubois  one 
sees   something    .^f   the    degradation    to   which 
idolatry  had  brought  India  before  the  preaching 
of  Christ  began  to  stem  the  tide  of  her  down- 
ward  career.     But  even  to-day  what  could  be 
worse  than  sakti  worship  or  the  avowed  prac- 
tices of  the  Mdhdrdi  sect?    What  must  be  the 
c'tTects  of  the  worship  of  Gancsha  as  the  god  of 
wisdom,  identified,  as  he  is  in  the  village  mind, 
only  with  the  puerile  stories  of  his  gluttony  and 
how  he  gained  his  elephant  head?    What  mis- 


Rejected 


5» 


sion.irv  li.is  imI  kiidwii  the  ;i\\fu!  fruits  of 
Kn\liiia  uorsliip.  saiictiuiiin^'  by  his  foul  ex- 
ample the  grossest  vice?  What  is  the  terrible 
etTect  upon  the  worshipper  of  bowing  before  the 
vile  Z./;;;'./?  I  have  seen  with  my  own  eyes,  I 
have  known  of  things  in  this  very  town  of  Ma- 
hohw.T,  connected  with  this  degrading  form  of 
the  woiship  of  Shiv  tlial  are  too  awful  fur  de- 
scription. 

Instead  of  an  evolutictn  from  idolatry,  the  his- 
tory of  religion  in  India  v\ould  show  a  constant 
retrogression  into  worse  forms  of  idolatry.  It  is 
an  eternal  principle  that  everything  which  comes 
between  the  worshipper  and  the  one  living  and 
true  God,  whether  it  be  philosophical  system, 
ritual  practices  or  an  image,  shuts  out  the  wor- 
shipper from  personal  and  quickening  touch  with 
Ciod;  and  nowhere  has  the  truth  of  this  been 
more  terribly  exemplified  than  in  India.  Instead 
of  lifting  the  Hindus  up  to  God,  idolatry  has  only 
dragged  tliem  down  to  a  participation  in  the  im- 
moral and  vicious  practices  of  the  gods  whom 
they  WQ- ship. 

It  is  not  easy  perhaps  for  an  ousider  to  be  quite 
just  in  discussing  an  alien  religion,  even  as  to  its 
idol-worship.  One  would  like  to  think  that 
there  may  be  something  behind  even  this  monu- 


52  Villa-r   Work   in   1^11:1 

cental  folly  of  the  luuu.nraa- that.  suu,.lm« 

for  l>"ht.  scckins  to  touch  the  sknls  ot  h. 
^:,n:  Uouln,cssthc.eareson.vvhoseeL. 
yond  the  ima,.  some  nebulous  spmtualKka 

whose  hearts  is  a  sincere  longmg  for  God   In 
WHO  ,u.lnothu.g  beyond  their  idohjtrousenu.. 

,,,,,^h   vvhuh  to  express  it;   others  ther.      e 
who/  vvhUe  they  profess  to  see  noth>ng  nr  th 
„,age.chnK  to  Usn.plv  from  custom  or  through 

fear;  and  there  are  n.uu'.  1  re,o>ce  to  say  an  ever 
incr;..sn.g   n-.ubcr.   who,  m   the  hght   o    purer 

Christian  ideals,  have  boMly  given   up  all   .dol- 
wor.hip.     But  a  cannot  be  demed  that  the  great 
.naioritv  of  Indus  people,  e.peoally  in  the  vd- 
U,ges.   are   real   ..dolaters.      VN'hatever  ha.y    dea 
some  of  them   mav  have   of  the  all-pervad.ng 
Brahmi,  their  thoughts  in  worship  do  not  rise 
bevond  the  Idol  itself,      i  he  ver>  ceremonv  of 
.M„  ^.//s/,//K7,bv  which  the  p>ece  of  wood  or 
stone  is  endued  wuhdivinitv,  points  to  this;  the 

superstitious  reverence  which  sunounds  every- 
'thing  connected  with  the  idol  and  its  temple, 
finds  in  this  its  only  full  explanation;  and  many 
a  time  have  I  had  it  tlnng  in  my  face:  'These 
are  our  gods."  And  it  is  true;  the  monkey-faced 
Hamnudn,  the  elephant-headed  Gamsha  the 
v,le  Ln„.,  the  shapeless  Mata  Drc.  the  licen- 


Il<jti;f. 


n 


tious  Krishna,  the  blcjodthiistv  Kali  and  many 
million  otiiors,  these  are  thy  ^'^J^.  <-)  India! 

Idolatry  is  not  native  to  tiie  Hindu,  it  is  a  can- 
cerous growth,  and  there  is  no  hope  for  India 
except  in  a  relentless  and  entire  crushing  out  of 
the  whole  system  as  a  foul  disease.  Well  said 
the  founder  of  the  Brahmo  Somaj.  already  quoted, 
"  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  root  of  al!  the 
evils  which  afflict  Hindu  society,  that  which  con- 
stitutes the  chief  cause  of  its  a  gradation,  is 
idolatry.  Idolatry  is  the  curse  of  Hindustan,  the 
deadly  canker  that  has  eaten  into  the  vitals  of 
native  society.  ...  It  will  not  do  to  retain  in 
the  mind  a  speculative  and  passive  belief  in  its 
dogmas;  you  must  practically  break  with  it  as  a 
dangerous  sin  and  an  abomination.  You  must 
give  It  up  altogether  as  an  unclean  th'ng.  You 
must  discountenance  it,  discourage  it,  oppose  it, 
and  hunt  it  out  of  your  country." 

It  was  seldom  the  people  of  Maheshvvar  saw 
an  European,  and  many  years  since  they  had 
been  visited  by  a  missionary:  yet  there  was  a 
suspicion  about  the  ignorance  of  this  village 
crowd,  and  a  hostility  in  their  demeanour,  which 
seemed  peculiar  to  this  god-ridden  atmosphere. 
The  uncouth  soldiers  shouted  at  us  as  we  crossed 
the    platform,    the    priests'    satellites   showered 


54 


Village  Work  in  India 


orders  tUl  we  were  m  :.  nia/e,  and  1  had  to  call 
the  most  clamorous  of  the.n  aside  and  tell  him 
that  we  would  be  i;lad  to  hear  anything  they  had 
to  say,  in  a  gentler  lone,  but  that  we  were  neither 
dogs  nor  cattle. 

The  objection  to  us  was  not  on  account  of  our 
being  missionaries;  few,  if  any,  knew  the  pur- 
pose of  our  visit.     The  trouble  arose  from  the 
suspicions  of  the  priests;  we  were  strangers  and 
of  an  alien  religion,  whose  advent  would  disturb 
their  superstitious  hold  on  the  people;  and  they 
.eared  us  as  the  darkness  dreads   the  light.     It 
appeared  that  there  were  certain  regulations  as 
to  where  men  wearing  boots  should  walk;  and 
though   we  ha  .  observed  many  of  the  Hindus 
defiling  the  sacred  places  with  their  shoe  leather, 
before'we  were  called  in  question,  we  were  not 
desirous  of  in  any  wav  infringing  on  the  rules. 
But  simple  obedience  was  not  enough,  and  some 
of  the  coarser  in  th'>  crowd  would  have  hunted 
us  out  of  the  place .  when  I  mentioned  that  we 
had  come  to  see  the  Aiiiin.  and,  drawing  out  my 
note-book,   asked  for   their  names.    This  was 
sufficient,  the  objectors  drew  away,  and  some  of 
the  moie  courteous  in  the  crowd  showed  us  the 
way  to  the  /fmiii's  house,  which  was  situated  in 
the  fortress.     We   found  him   in   his   dajtar,  a 


Rficc'tcd 


55 


broad  room  with  manv  iinaintly  carved  windows, 
and  walls  decorated  m  l>lue  and  yellow  with  im- 
possible   horses     and    elephants.       The     carved 
wooden  pillars  that  supported  the  low  roof  di- 
vided  it  off  into  sections,  in  one  of  which  the 
object  of  our  quest,  clothed  in  immaculate  white, 
was  seated  dictating  to  his  clerk.     The  sepoy  at 
the  door  would  have  made  us  ♦ake  off  our  boots 
to  enter  "The  Presence";  but  the  Amin  himself 
coming  forward  to  welcome  us,  ordered  out  a 
couch  and  bade  us  be  seated.     Short,  but  well- 
proportioned,  with  a  handsome,  agreeable  face, 
he  was  a  good-natured,  pleasant  spoken  man,  in 
whom   we  soon       ilised  that  we  had  found  a 
friend.     He  talked  to  us  freely  about  a  visit  he 
had  once  paid  to  Europe  with  the  1  lolkar,   and 
seemed  interested  in  our  coming  and  our  work, 
asking  us  to  hold  a  meeting  in  his  house.     Like 
many  of  the  more  thoughtful  of  even  the  village 
people,  he  was  beginning  to  fi  .-1  tne  shadow  of 
the  inevitable  when  the  Nazarene  would  displace 
the  grinning  gods  of  the  temple  below. 

But  the  temper  of  the  W/»/«  was  not  reflected 
by  the  people  of  the  ba/aar.  We  returned  to 
the  market-place  to  tind  the  Christian  preachers 
the  centre  of  a  ge  filiating,  howling  mob,  \\'ho 
were  threatening   >!iem  with  clubs  and   stones. 


56 


Village  Work  in  India 


l:vidently  the  priests  had  been  at  work,  for  we 
could  see  their  clean-shaven   heads,  with  broad 
/;/,\7 '  marks,  conspicuous  among  the  leaders  of 
the  rabble.     The  wretched  sepoys  were  power- 
less, and  stood  idly  by,  evidently  sympathising 
with  the  crowd.     It  may  be  our  men  were  not 
sufficiently  tacttul.  or  perhaps  their  position  was 
not  well  chosen,  in  the  open  market-place  and 
to  near  a  temple;   but   there  was  a   malignity 
about  this  opposition  that  had  in  it  the  bitterness 
of    ignorant    hatred    for    the   name  of    Christ. 
When  we  appeared,  the  vituperation  was  turned 
on  us.     1  got  our  little  party  to  one  side  and 
sought  to  draw  around  us  the  less  unfriendly, 
telling  them  we  had  come  neither  to  injure  them 
nor  curse  their  gods,  but  to  give  them  a  message 
we    had    brought    from    far    over   the   " '^lack 
water."     But  neither  respect  for  our  request,  the 
presence  of  my  wife,  nor  the  curiosity  of  the 
crowd  could  stop  the  malignity  of  the  Brahmin 
clique  and  their  followers.     One  of  them,  burst- 
ing with  a  venom  of  hate,  came  close  up,  md, 
shaking  his  stick,  hissed  out  a  threat  to  lead  a 
niPb  to  our  tents  and  destroy  them  and  us.     We 
were  not  afraid,  but  it  was  evident  our  message 
was  not  wanted  nor  was  a  howling  mob,  armed 

1  Marks  on  the  forelieaJ  Mgiulymg  reliyious  cult. 


Rejected 


57 


with  stones  and  clubs,  and  poisoned  with  preju- 
dice, a  likely  soil  for  rcceivin^^  the  Word.  We 
gradually  withdrew,  the  mob  following  us, 
hooting  and  threatening,  to  the  very  gates. 

And  here,  without  the  gates,  we  found  our 
work.     Every  town  and  village  in  India  has  its 
poor    quarter,    usually    a     collection    of     rude, 
'.hatched   huts,  the   homes   of   the  Chaiudrs  or 
leather   workers,  the   Mdugs,   the   Malidrs  and 
the  Bhalais,  the  labouring  or  coolie  classes,  who 
form  the  great  commonalty  of  India.     1*  is  not 
their  povertv,  however,  which  causes  their  sepa- 
ration, for  among  them  are  some  who  have  ac- 
cumulated wealth  and  built  good  houses,  even 
temples,  for  themselves;  but  they  are  below  that 
sharp  line  of  demarkation  which  distinguishes 
high   from  low;  they  are  the  outcasttd,  the  ig- 
norant, degraded  and  superstitious  masses,  who 
are  despised  by  the  higher  castes,  denied  many 
of  the  commonest  rights  of  man,  and  deprived 
almost  of  hope  both  here  and  hereafter. 

A  little  way  outside  the  gate  we  came  on  a 
group  of  BImlars.  beneath  a  )ifm  tree  in  front  of 
the  shoemaker's  shop,  idlv  gossiping  after  their 
morning's  work  in  the  fields.  They  had  no 
sympathy  with  the  disturbance  in  the  city,  in 
their    own    way    they   were    probably    just   as 


c8  Villap;(^  Work   in   India 

bigoted  and  even  more  iunnrant,  bit  their  world 
was  a  ditferent  one.  and  tlie  higii  caste  quarrels 
were  none  of  theirs. 

"Would  YOU  like  to  hear  us  sing  ? "  1  asked, 
after  the  usu.il  greetings. 

"Yes,  I'adii  Sahib,"  came  from  several  of 
them  together. 

So,  squatting  en  the  edge  of  the  shoemaker's 
verandah,  we  sang  for  them  thai  sweet  lyric 
"  Yisliii  .V/,?v//;.' 

"Will  not  the  p.idri  sahibs  sing  it  again?" 
they  asked,  when  we  were  through.  So  again 
we  sang  to  them  : 

"  i'lsfn't  A/,!ii/j  mt->\>  prJiim  hiichaiya, 
Jo  piil>i  Yhhii  kane  lir.r 
Ynhti  hai  ~i;)ii  mukt  i  karaiyit." 
(Jesus  saves  my  soul. 
Let  sinners  come,  whoever  will, 
Christ  will  make  them  whole.) 

How  wonderful  is  the  power  of  song.  Their 
t.iccs  lit  up  and  eves  glistened  as  we  sang  over 
,ind  over  again  the  glad  refrain  "Jesus  saves  my 
s.uir':  and  a  sad  look  (*f  reality  and  longing 
stole  over  tlieui  at  the  words: 


ils/iii  hai  me,  0  para  karaiya." 
(The  stream  is  deep,  tlie  boat  is  old, 
but  Jesus  bears  us  over.) 


Rejected 


59 


Song  after  song  we  sang  to  an  audience  that 
never  sceincd  Xo  grmv  tired,  even  the  women 
crowdu;,'.;  i  i.t  from  tiie  neighbouring  doorways. 
After  each  song  we  explained  its  meanmg,  but 
none  seemed  to  have  the  power  of  the  first; 
"Jesus  saves  my  soul"  was  their  favourite,  and 
before  we  left  we  had  to  sing  it  again.  Thus 
feathered  uUh  song  was  the  gospel  messa.^e 
shot  home  to  their  simple  luMrts;  and  with  the 
refrain  ringin  in  their  ears,  we  left  them  to  the 
message  and  God. 

Not  only  did  1  think  it  inadvisable,  after  the 
display  against  us  in  the  bazaar,  even  to  accept 
the  Ainin's  invitation,  but  my  wife  was  taken 
suddenly  ill,  and  before  we  had  time  for  an- 
other service,  we  had  to  pack  up  and  hurry 
back  to  Mhow,  driving  all  night  through  the 
deep,  dark  jungle,  with  only  a  lantern  to  pick 
out  the  way.  It  was  a  full  year  before  we 
again  visited  this  place  of  the  gods.  As  we 
were  putting  up  our  tents  under  a  wide-spi-ad- 
ing  mango-tree,  in  the  grove  outside  the  citv.  we 
suddenly  heard  away  down  the  river  the  voice  of 
singing.  As  it  approached  nearer  we  could  rec- 
ognise the  refrain,  and  soon  the  full  song  burst 
upon  our  ears,  "  Yisliu  Masilt  lucro  pidihi 
bachaiyd"  (Jesus  saves  my  soul).     It  was  the 


5o  Villi<:c  Work   in   Iiulia 

voice  of  one  of  the  vounii  men  to  whom,  when 
spurned  bv  priest  and  Brahmin,  we  had  turned 
and  tau-ht  the  gospel.  The  song  had  lived,  as 
only  Christian  song  can  live,  to  blossom  out  in 
God's  own  time  into  glad  new  life. 

On  this  occasion  we  remained  three  days  in 
Maheshwar,  working  quietly  through  the  bazaars 
and  among  the  separate  castes  in  their  own  vui- 
halLn  Cdistritts).     We  made  many  friends,  even 
among   the   Brahmins,  several  of  whom,  inclu- 
ding the  Amin.  visited  us  at  our  camp.     Our  old 
friends,  the  Blialais,  their  duties  in  the  fields  be- 
ing somewhat  slackened,  were  glad  to  see  us, 
and   we   had  many  talks  with  them  and  their 
neighbours,  the  Chaiihirs,  about  the  New  Way. 
One    old    man   who   remembered    well   a    visit 
payed  years  before  by  Campbell  Sahib,  seemed 
to  have  got  a  clear  hold  of  the  truth;  but  custom 
and   the   ties  of   caste  had  grown  strong  with 
vears.    and   though   he  set  his  face  against  the 
follies  of  Hinduism,  he  did  not  seem  willing  to 

go  further. 

On  our  third  visit  we  brought  the  gospel  tent. 
This  was  a  large,  disused  mess  tent,  with  two 
poles,  a  ridge  and  detachable  sides;  and  was 
capable  of  seating  200  or  more  within,  and,  with 
one   side   open,   two   or   even  three  tunes   that 


Rrjrcted 


61 


number  within  hearing  distance  without.  It 
^Mve  us  the  great  advantage  of  having  the  meet- 
ings more  directly  under  our  own  control;  peo- 
ple were  quieter,  stayed  longer,  and  were  more 
attentive,  when  comfoilably  seated  on  ir  oig 
cotton  rugs,  with  the  two  tent  lanterns  burning 
brightly  overhead,  the  organ  playing  and  the 
whole  meeting  more  of  the  nature  of  an  invita- 
tion lo  our  home.  Then  it  was  more  exclusive; 
while  we  always  made  arrangement  so  that  the 
low-caste  people,  and  even  the  women,  had 
their  places,  we  could  insist  on  t]uietness  and 
eject  those  who  were  bent  on  disturbance. 
From  the  yini/n  we  obtained  permission  to  erect 
it  in  a  vacant  space  just  outside  the  gate.  And 
here,  for  a  week,  we  gathered  day  and  night 
crowds  numbering  sometimes  from  =^00  to  800 
people,  who,  with  but  few  e.xceptions,  and  these 
were  generally  overawed  by  the  rest,  gave  us  the 
closest  attention  while  we  told  them  the  story  of 
the  Cross. 

On  the  last  evening  we  held  a  plain  gospel 
meeting,  without  either  lantern  or  pictures. 
There  were  probably  600  people  present,  seated, 
as  many  as  possible,  inside,  but  more  outside 
the  tent.  There  was  SMUie  noise  and  a  little  dis- 
order in  getting  the  audience  seated,  but  as  soon 


62 


Vilhvn-    Work    m    liuli;i 


;is  the  strains  of  the  cri^.m  .ir.ise  and  the  singing 
began,  evc-rvthin-  ^rcw  quiet,  cx.epl  f(.r  a  few 
Mohammedan  youths  evidently  beiil  on  mischief. 
(Jur   subject    for  the  evenin.L,'   was  the  life  and 
work  cif  Christ;  one  after  another  our  little  band 
rose   and   told  in  Mmple   words  the   wonderlul 
story,  no  one  bein^  allowed  to  speak  so  l.nig  as 
to  tire  the  audience.     While  they  spoke  the  tent 
hmterns  lit  up  a  touching  scene;  from  the  midst 
of  keen   brown   faces,  and  from  beneath  many 
varied  turbans  the  broad  red  puggarees  of  the 
Brahmins,    the    nondescript    headgear    of    the 
crowd,  and  the  apolouetic  strip  of  cotton  crown- 
itm  the  head  of  the  urchin,  there  looked  up  sharp 
intelligent    eyes    that    seemed   to   tell   of    souls 
awakening,  as  though  the  Christ   Message  had 
struck  a  slumbering  chord.     In  the  midst  of  the 
meeting  the  Mohammedan  hiJiiuislirs  (rowdies) 
made  a  determined  attempt  to  stampede  the  au- 
dience; but  the  Spirit  was  there  in  power  and 
ihev  got  little  or  no  following;  it  just  served  to 
sit t  the  audience.     We  had  no  means  of  measur- 
ing  the   interest,    but   what    could   speak    more 
plainlv  than  th.it  this  ignorant,  prejudiced,  vil- 
lage mob  should  sit  and  listen  for  the  better  part 
of  an  hour  to  a  storv  that  had  nothing  in  it  of 
jest  or  amusement  or  of  the  gossip  of  the  market- 


R«jccted 


place  ?  Surely  in  this  phice  of  the  gods,  behind 
all  the  multiplicity  of  idols,  there  was  a  great  de- 
sire after  the  truth,  and  a  soul  hunger  on  the  part 
of  some  for  a  view  of  God  that  would  till  up 
their  vision  and  satisfy  their  hearts. 

The  next  morning  one  of  the  town  officials,  a 
Mohammedan,  sent  a  present  over  to  me  asking 
that  I  would  call  and  see  him.  "I  want  to  tell 
thee,  Padri  Sahib,"  he  said,  "how  much  I  be- 
lieve in  what  thou  dost  preach  and  what  happi- 
ness it  would  give  me  to  see  one  of  thy  disciples 
established  here  to  teach  the  people  about  the 
Christ."  He  then  offered  not  only  to  help  us  get 
a  house  but  to  pay  something  towards  the  wages 
of  such  a  teacher,  if  I  would  send  him  in.  But 
it  was  impossible;  I  had  already  more  outstations 
than  I  could  properly  supply,  and  I  could  simply 
promise  to  pass  the  offer  on  to  the  Church  at 
home  that  controlled  the  supply. 

The  crowning  victory,  however,  came  a  year 
later,  when  one  evening  upon  the  same  market 
square,  that  had  first  witnessed  our  disheartening 
defeat,  the  Christian  preachers  gathered  a  con- 
gregation of  over  a  thousand  people.  It  was  a 
clear,  cold  night  in  January,  and  the  darkened 
street  was  thronged  on  both  sides  of  the  magic- 
lantern   sheet;    some  were  seated  on  the  shop 


64  Village  W<uk   in  India 

verandahs,    some    in   carts,   some  even   on   the 
steps  of  the  temple,  but  most  were  standing  in 
the  open  roadway.     No  single  voice  could  reach 
such  a  crowd;  so  one  on  one  side  of  the  sheet, 
and  another  on  the  other,  our  men  preached  for 
over  an  hour  the  same  Old  Story,  and  to  the  same 
people  who  a  few  years  before  had  been  so  eager 
to  murder  them.     There  was  no  attempt  at  in- 
terruption; out  in  the  still  night  air  they  stood,  a 
mass  of  dark  upturned  faces,  as  if  some  strange 
hypnotic  intluence  had  bewitched  them;  while, 
picture  after  picture,  the  Bible  scenes  were  Hashed 
before  them  and  their  story  unfolded.     The  furv 
of  hate  had  broken  down,  opposition  had  bee.i 
overcome,    and    the    attention    of    the    people 
gained.      Doubtless,    hatred    still   remained,   the 
priests   looked   down   from  behind  the  latticed 
windows  no  more  sympathetically :  but  without 
force  or  threatening,  without  the  intervention  of 
human  power,  the  sympathy  of  the  people  had 
been  gained— the  Nazarene  had  conquered. 

Some  short  time  afterwards  I  had  the  privilege 
of  receiving  into  the  Church  of  Christ  one  of  the 
Bhalai^  from  Mahcshwar,  the  "Place  of  the 
Gods."  It  was  the  young  m.in  of  the  song- 
Jesus  Christ  had  saved  his  soul. 


UNDER   THF.   MANGO-TRF.ES 


The  heavy  niornin^''s  work  was  over;  wt^  had 
just  risen  from  our  late  breakfast  of  daliya.  ddl 
and  rk";  and  now,  seated  in  the  shelter  of  our 
tent  beneath  the  mango-trees,  were  giving  our- 
selves to  rest  and  the  drowsy  scene  be'")re  us. 
The  tide  of  ni  on  was  just  on  ;  ie  turn  and  one 
could  almost  hear  ihe  solemn  set  of  day.  It 
brought  out  into  sharper  contrast  the  hum  of  in- 
sect life,  the  occasional  caw  of  a  disturbed  crow, 
the  deep  guf  ura!s  of  th  tieid  labour  ts  ind  the 
shriller  and  more  peremptory  con-:mands  of  the 
women.  Just  beyon  \  the  thorny  hedge  that 
fronted  the  mango-gri  .  e,  the  bullock  carts  jolted 
lazily  along  the  sunken  ji.  ;gle  track,  the  glint  of 
the  red  turbans  and  many  coloured  saris  of  their 
occupants  bobbing  up  and  down  in  un  ;on  with 
the  luts  of  the  roadway;  while  away  bcvond, 
the  fields  of  jo's'  1r  and  a/sf,  cotton  and  sanni'i, 
varied  bv  oci  asional  patches  of  opium  and  gar- 
den stutT,  bathed  themselves  in  the  molten  sun- 
shine.    Groups    >f  curious  children  in  their  still 

6s 


66 


Vill.i'^c   Work   ill    India 


more  curi<His  garments  hiiii-  around  the  camp. 
discussmu  in  ea.^cr  tones  the  advent  and  be- 
longings of  the  white  strangers.  Save  for  the 
scratching  of  mv  pen  and  the  rusthng  of  a  news- 
paper in  the  neighbouring  lent,  the  camp  itself 
was  at  rest,  the  native  brethren  enjoying  a  well 
earned  sleep  alter  the  morning  s  long  and  dusty 

tramp. 

"Sahib,"  I  looked  up  from  my  writing  to  see 
one  of  the  Christian  preachers  before  me.     "Is 
it  time  for  the  class  ? "    it  is  our  custom  to  spend 
an  hour  every  afternoon  in  camp  over  some  Bible 
study  with  the  native  workers,  following  the 
course  laid  down   by  Presbytery.      Before  the 
lesson  was  more  than  half  over  visitors  were  an- 
nounced from  the  village,  the  schoolmaster  and 
several  Brahmin  officials.     On  going  out  1  found 
them  waiting  on  the  outskirts  of  the  camp  to  be 
mvited  to  come   near.     Very  picturesque  they 
appeared  in  their  clean   wliite  garments,  broad 
Maratha  turbans   and  silk  scarfs,  as  they  stood 
out  in  bold  relief  against  the  foliage.     But  it  was 
not  this  that  riveted  attention  so  much  as  the 
look  of  intelligence  and  assurance,  mingled  with 
a  sort  of  unconscious,  childlike  ignorance   that 
was  depicted  on  their  faces. 
There  is  no  class  of  India's  people  to  whom 


Uiulcr  the    M;in''()-'I>c('S 


67 


the  mind  of  all  who  aw  interested  m  her  tiestiny 
more  initinctively  turns  than  the  educated  Brah- 
mins.     Keen  and   subtle   of   thought,  with    re- 
markable   penetration    and    retentiveness,    these 
high-caste   Hindus  are  intellectually  one  of  the 
most  p(jtential  classes   i'l   human    societv.     i'ro- 
portionately  they  are  noc    numerous;  the  whole 
Brahmin  community  does  not  number  ten  per  cent. 
of  the  population  and  only  a  section  of  these  is 
educated ;  the  whole  college  and  high  school  atten- 
dance for  India  being  only  twenty  one-hundredth 
per  cent,  of  the  school  going  age.     But  if  few  in 
proportion  they  are  still  large  m  numbers.     There 
are  more  students  in  attendance  on  the  universi- 
ties and  colleges  of  India  than  at  all  the  colleges 
of  Great  Britain.     Moreover  they  have  a  far  more 
than   proportional   intluence.     It   is  too  early  to 
speak  of  leaders  among  the  Christians  of  India, 
and  they  may  yet  be  chosen  from  the  Chamdrs 
(tanners)  and  fishermen;  but  this  we  do  know 
that  the  converted  Brahmin  will  be  a  man  of  in- 
fluence and  power.     He  is  more  difficult  to  reach, 
more  barriers  have  to  be  overcome,  more  preju- 
dices met;  but  the  fruit,  however  difficult  to  ob- 
tain, is  well  worth  the  effort.     We  can  afford  to 
be  indifferent  to  his  pride  and  scorn,  to  bear  with 
his  egotism  and  conceit  and  be  patient  with  his 


f,8  Village   Work   in   Iiulia 

n.anv  follies  and  w.-  kn.sses.  lor  the  intelligent 
Brah.n>n,    tvulv    ccnvert.d,    xv.U   be   power   for 
Christ's  kingdom.     This  community  appeals  to 
us.  moreover,    not  only  from  the  standpoint  of 
their  possibilities,  but  of  their  needs.     As  a  class, 
they  lack  virilitv  and  moral  stamina;   they  are 
moved  bv   no  inflexible,  eternal  purpose;  they 
are  still  either  bound  to  the  wheel  of  a  fatalistic 
inheritance  of  caste  rule  and  custom,  or  are  out 
on  the  sea  of  life,  like  driftwood,  the  plaything 
of  circumstances,  the  c^ildren  of  fate. 

Unlike  tlie  ordinary  vil'ager.  --owever.  the  edu- 
cated  Hindu   is  dillicult  to  reach.     He  makes  a 
poor  street  listener;  pride  ot  birth  and  position 
forbids  his  herding  with  the   common  crowd, 
while  consciousness  of  superiority  shuts  him  out 
from  accepting  the  simplicity  which  appeals  to 
ordinary   minds.     He  must  be  reached  in  some 
other  way.     It  is  a  mistake,  however,  to  -magine 
that  the  Brahmin  ,s  not  open  to  direct  religious 
influences,    that   he  will   not   listen  to  a  gospel 
address  01   converse  as  to  his  religious  condiiion. 
Some   of   the  brightest  gospel  meetings   1   have 
attended  in  India  have  been  among  the  educated 
class-s;  and   1  have  found  no  class  more  sym- 
pathetic  in  private  conversation  con.aning  the 
deep   things   of  life    and  our   relation   to   God. 


Under  the   M;in£ro-Trees 


U) 


'■"hough  they  d(j  not  att'.'nJ  our  street  preaching, 
they  gladly  come  to  the  >-'iagic  lantern  meetings 
and  to  services  specially  arranged  for  them ;  and 
at  most  of  the  large  places  we  visit  on  tour  they 
come  to  talk  with  us  at  our  tents. 

While  1  went  forward  to  welcome  our  visitors 
one  of  the  helpers  brought  out  our  few  camp- 
chairs;  but  as  there  were  not  enough  to  go 
around,  they  refused  to  be  seated  without  m.e, 
until  W-"  compromised  by  bringing  out  one  of 
the  camp-beds.  It  is  not  alw  ys  easy  to  tell  just 
the  object  of  such  visits;  the  Hindu  does  not 
state  his  business,  it  must  be  drawn  from  him. 
It  may  be  simply  curios'ty  to  see  the  baby  organ 
or  to  be  photographed,  it  may  be  a  desire  to 
practice  English  or  solicit  our  influence  with  some 
official;  some,  however,  come  to  talk  of  the 
things  concerning  God,  and  for  the  sake  of  these 
we  welcome  all. 

Before  we  could  get  down  to  a  satisfactory 
talk  on  religion  it  was  necessary  to  locat*'  our 
visitors.  Even  in  this  distant  village,  where  the 
educated  community  numbered  not  more  than 
half  a  score,  various  religious  opinions  were 
represented.  The  schoolmaster,  1  found,  be- 
longed to  the  Arya  Somaj,  the  compounder  from 
the  Native  dispensary  talked  ut   Neo-Hinduism, 


~0  Villa^f   Work   in  India 

while   the  others  vncilhiteJ   between   these   and 
onr.odoxv.     The  rch-n.us  thou-lil  of   ediu-aled 
India  is  a  restless,  storm-tossed  sea.     Great  torees 
have  been   at  work:  a  benelicent  Government, 
contact  with  Europe  and  western  ideas,  the  tlood 
of  English  literatur-  tirst  let  louse  by  Carey  and 
his   followers,  but   above   all   a   century    of   the 
teaching  of  Jesus  have  wrought  havoc  with  many 
of  her  ideas.     She  has  broken  from  superstitions 
and  prejudices  hoary  with  the  slavish  service  of 
ages;  she  has   become  ashamed  of  her  idolatry 
and  the  grosser  ceremonies  of  her  religion;  she 
has    been   awakened   to   higher  ideals   and   the 
expurgation    from    her    religious    thought    and 
teaching  of  the  corrupt  accretions  of  later  cen- 
turies.    "  Back  to  the  Vedas  "  is  the  cry  of  her 
religious  leaders,  who  are  seeking  to  build  out  of 
the  philosophv  of  the  past  a  new  religion  suited 
to  the  needs  of  the  present. 

Spite  however  of  ihese  changes,  the  heart  of 
Hmdd'sm  has  not  lu-en  renewed;  the  same  old 
edectif  spirit  remains,  that  sucked  at  the  breast 
of  Bnadl-  <m  and  Mie  animistic  religions  in  turn, 
and  Jiat  would  fain  pl.ue  Christ  in  her  pantheon 
along  with  R.nii  .ind  Ki/\lnui.  Hinduism  is  not 
the  historv  I'f  a  great  spiritual  ideal,  slowlv  de- 
veloping and  sei/ing  upnii  the  minds  and  h'^arts 


UiuUt  the   Maniro-Tit'es 


i.f   liiJia's  ncwitlo;  l>ut  ratlKr  tlic  sto;y  i'f  Brali- 
inin  subtlctv,  vvhcicbv.  in  order  not  Duly  to  re- 
tain the  al!ci;iance  ut  thci'  mvii,  but  to  woo  into 
that  allegiance  each  conquered  people,  they  have 
departed  from  the  loftier  character  t>t  their  Aryan 
forefathers,  and,  sacrificing  integrity  to  specious- 
ness,  have  corrupted  the  simpler  and  purer  Vedic 
ideals,  welding  more  (irmly  the  bonds  of  caste, 
and   ever   adding   fetich,  idol   or  ceremony,  ac- 
cording  to   the   demands   of   its    votaries.     But 
what  word  can  describe  that  multiform  creation 
of  Brahmin  genius,  with  its  subtle  philosophies 
snd  puerile  superstitions,  its  lofty  ideals  and  re- 
volting ceremonies,  with  its  omniverous  appetite 
that  has  sated  itself  upon  the  gods  and  super- 
st'tions  of  every  people  over  whom  she  has  ob- 
tained  swav.  till    her   beliefs  are  past  svstema- 
tising  and  her  deities  past  reckoning  ?     And  just 
i's  when  the  humane  element  of  Buddhim  ap- 
pealed to  the  hearts  of  India's  people,  the  Brah- 
mins incorporated  this  as  part  of  their  teaching 
and  made  Buddha  an  incarnation  of  yishuii,  so 
would  orthodox  Hinduism  deal  with  Christianity 
to-day.     Against  this  degraded  Hinduism,  how- 
ever, many  of  the  better  minds  of  new  India, 
fascinated  with    Christian    ideals,  are  in  revolt; 
and  thev  seek  in  the  literature  of  the  V'edas  those 


—  > 

/- 


Village  Work  in   India 


piiicr  ideals  of  f.od  .md  n-hteousness  that  have 
grown  up  in  their  mnids  from  contact  with  the 
life  and  spirit  of  Christ  and  His  followers.  A 
new  meaning  of  the  word  "religion"  is  laying 
hold  of  them;  contact  with  the  West  is  reveal- 
ing to  them,  as  one  of  their  own  papers  puts  it, 
"tha-t  whilst  an  Englishman's  religion  consists  in 
his  faith  in  principles,  the  religion  of  a  Hindu 
consists  in  conformity  to  custom  " ;  and  a  hunger 
for  the  real  is  growing  up  in  their  hearts. 

Nothing  could  be  more  di.scouraging,  however, 
than  the  failure  of  these  attempts  to  establish  a 
pure  and  vital  religion  by  an  appeal  to  the  past. 
The  history  of  Hinduism  reveals  many  attempts 
at  reformation  by  a  discarding  ot  excrescences 
and  a   reestabhshment  of  the  past.     •'But"  as 
the  Huuin,  a  non-Christian  paper,  says,  ••  Hindu 
Protestantism   never  made  a  lasting  mark;  and 
to-day,  as  ever  in  the  centuries  that  have  elapsed, 
the  incubus  of  custom  has  blighted  the  prospects 
of   the  Hindu    peoples  and   stood   in  the    way 
of    their    coalescing    into  a    nation   senMble  of 
their  immense   strength  and   power  for  good." 
Such  an  acknowledgment  by  one  of  themselves, 
of  the  futility  of  Hindu   Protestant  movements 
can  only  be  interpreted  as  a  growing  conviction, 
on  the  part  of  those  for  whom  it  speaks,  that  it 


J^ 


Under  the   M;ui<j;()-Trees 


73 


IS  not  within,  not  tioin    ui>  appeai  to  the  p.ist, 
th.it  India's  salvation  is  to  ..lise.     What  the  Hindu 
is  toilsomely  learning  by  many  sad  experiences 
is  th..;  though  there  is  much  that  is  beautiful,  much 
mat  considered  historic. iliv  is  truly  marvellous  m 
Vedic  l.teratuii.    it  has  no  message  of  salvation, 
no  l.fe  for  the  soul  that  is  dead  in  sin.     We  must 
judge  the   Vedas   not  by    their    choicest    frag- 
ments but  bv  their  general  spirit.      Dr.  Caldwell 
says:     "If   any    person    reads    the    hymns    of 
the  Vedas  for  the  first  time,  he  will  be  struck 
with  surprise  at  the  ulteily  worldly,   unethical, 
unspiritual  tone  by  which  they  are  generally  per- 
vaded."    There   is   in   them   as  Dr.   MacDonald 
says,  "no  zeal  for  righteousness"  nor  for  the 
glory  of  God.     With  all  their  attractiveness  they 
leave  the  hungry  soul  unsatisfied;  and  it  is  this 
conviction  that  is  slowly  driving  many  in  India 
to  Christ. 

Our  visitors  were  not  men  of  deep  convictions; 
"getting  on,"  which  in  their  case  meant  govern- 
ment preferment,  was  perhaps  the  motive  power 
of  their  lives;  and  yet  they  gave  no  littie  thought 
to  questions  of  religion,  nor  were  thev  at  all 
reticent  in  talking  about  them.  It  would  be  im- 
possible to  give  a  succinct  account  of  our  con- 
versation; the  schoolmaster  .vas  spokesman,  the 


74 


VilhiLH,'   Work   in    India 


others  onI\   droppini;  ;in   occasiimal  word,  and 
prolMbly  lie  had  some  idea  ot  the  impression  he 
would  make  m  suggesting  the  visit  to  our  camp. 
The  discussion,  though  interesting,  was  protita- 
ble  rather  in  the  opportunity  it  gave  for  pressing 
home   acknowledged    truths.     It    is    marvellous 
how  little  even  the  educated  Hindu  really  knows 
concerning  either  Vedic  literature  or  the  history 
of  Hinduism,  beyond  the  stories  of  the  Ramayana 
and  M.ili.ihiijralii,  the  mantras  he  has  learned 
from  the  family  priest  and  what  he  has  picked 
up  from  discussions  or  the  native  press.     But  he 
is  strongly  moved  by  jealousy  for  Hindu  tradi- 
tions and  a  sort  of  false  patriotism,  that  often- 
times make  him  openly  hostile  to  the  aggressive 
propagand.i  of  Christianity:  the  distinctive  fea- 
ture of  the  Arva  Somaj  preacliing  in  these  vil- 
lages  was   opposition   to  Christianity.      Others 
however,  convinced,  perhaps  in  spite  of  them- 
selves, of   the  ethical  truth  of  Chiistianitv,  and 
the  beautv  of   the  charactei    of  Christ,  attempt 
rather  a  defence  of  Hinduism  by  showing  in  how 
manv  w.ivs  it  parallels  Christianity.     That  there 
are  many  aftinities  between  Hinduism  and  Chris- 
tianity no  careful  student  will  deny,  some  which, 
so  far  as  can  be  tr.iced,  are  of  independent  origin 
in  both,  and  others  v.hicii  it  is  claimed  Hinduism 


Under  the   Man<r()-Trecs 


/  •) 


owes  to  Christian  influence.  Such  points  of 
contact  are  to  be  found  in  the  doctrines  of  incar- 
nation, vicarious  atonement,  iinmortality,  future 
rewards  and  punishments  <ind  others.  In  fact 
ahnost  every  outstanding^  feature  of  Hinduism 
contains  a  truth,  more  or  less  e.xaggerated  and 
ahnost  invariably  perverted  to  some  ulterior  end. 
Religion  in  India  is  like  the  ever-changing  scenes 
of  a  kaleidoscope;  sublime  spiritual  thought  is 
often  found  side  by  side  with  debasing  ritual  and 
gross  sensuality.  The  same  system  that  has  fed 
the  lust  of  the  debauchee  has,  with  deep  subtlety, 
been  given  some  mystic  signiticance  for  the 
spiritual  devotee. 

Although  the  schoolmaster  was  somewhat  in- 
delinite  in  his  ideas  of  Hinduism,  his  shrewdness 
N\as  quick  to  detect  anything  of  the  nature  of 
affinitv.  and  the  spirit  of  enquiry  was  at  work. 
Like  the  rest  of  his  compatriots  he  was  je.dous 
also  for  the  traditional  religion  and  prompt  to  re- 
sent anv  lack  of  justice  towards  it.  1  fear  that 
oftentimes  we  missionaries,  impressed  with  the 
awful  contrast  between  the  grosser  side  of  Hin- 
duism and  Christian  morality,  have  been  slow  to 
discern  and  acknowledge  its  hidden  truths.  The 
cause  of  Christ  has  evfrvthing  to  gain  from  such 
an  acknowledgment.     l:,\aggerated  views  as  to 


I 


76 


Village  Work,  in   India 


the  potential  pood  in  Hinduism  and  its  relative 
merits    and    demerits   have   crept   mto   western 
literature,  which  can  be  corrected  only  by  a  clear 
setting   forth  of   these  truths  from  a  Christian 
standpoint.     Moreover  it  is  most  essential  that 
the  missionary  especially  should  have  a  clear  idea 
as  to  the  Hindu's  view-point;  while  injustice  to 
the  traditions  of  her  religion  will  only  bar  the 
way  to  the  hearts  of  India's  people,  nothing  per- 
haps will  more  quickly  convince  them  as  to  the 
absolute  insufficiency  of   Hinduism,  than  a  clear 
setting  forth  of  its  truth  and  untruth  and  the 
great  contrast  between   its  general   view-point 
and   that  of    Christianity.     We   must   lead   the 
Hindu  to  see  that  though  there  are  great  truths  in 
Hinduism,  they  are  only  partial  and  perverted, 
and  that  even  separated  from  the  grosser  accre- 
tions of   later  ce^'uries,  they  contain  in  them- 
selves no  dynamic  for  soiving  the  great  problems 
of  sin  and  salvation,  no  divine  Man  to  lead  the 
way  to  God.     They  are  but  water  in  a  stagnant 
po'  !,  which  will  be  of  service  only  when  they 
have  been  distilled  in  the  alembic  of  the  Sun  of 
Righteousness. 

Though  our  visitors  posed  as  enlightened  and 
reformed,  we  could  not  but  notice  manv  man- 
nerisms  paying   unconscious  tribute  to  cu.-^.tom 


Under  the  Mango-Trees 


77 


and  caste.  The  tone  of  voice  towards  the  serv- 
ant, the  unconscious  drawing  aside  of  the  gar- 
ments as  he  passed,  showed  that  the  same  spirit 
of  intolerance  still  dominated  their  actions,  the 
same  intellectual  conceit  and  pride  in  their  Brah- 
minical  traditions  still  blocked  the  way  to  their 
spiritual  welfare.  The  fact  is  the  educated  Hindu 
leads  a  double  life.  That  ne  is  captivated  by  the 
intellectual  and  spiritual  atmosphere  of  the  domi- 
nant race  is  best  attested  by  his  many  efforts  at 
imitation;  he  speaks  English  on  every  Oi.casion, 
even  to  his  fellows;  he  is  in  many  cases  fairly 
well  acquainted  with  English  thought  and  litera- 
ture; he  is  opposed  to  the  gross  incongruities  of 
Hindu  life;  and  is  an  advocate  of  social  as  well 
as  religious  reform.  But  there  is  another  side  to 
his  life;  very  few  of  the  women  are  drawn  up 
even  within  sight  of  his  public  level;  and  so  in 
the  home,  where  some  ignorant  mother's  or 
grandmother's  prejudice  and  superstition  are 
law.  he  must  sink  down  to  theirs,  practicing  in 
private  the  very  absurdities  he  so  unsparingly 
denounces  in  public.  Woman,  for  so  many 
years  depressed,  is  unconsciously  having  her 
revenge,  and  upon  her  salvation  depends  the 
welfare  of  her  sons;  for  India,  like  the  rest  of 
the  world,  will  never  rise  higher  than  the  level 


78  Village   Work   in    liuiiu 

of  her  women.  The  resultant  character  of  such 
a  double  life  is  net  hop^tul,  but  it  defines  the 
struggle;  caste  prejudice,  ignorant  superstition. 
Brahmin  pride,  and  intellectual  conceit  on  the 
one  side,  with  an  innate  desire  for  something 
better  and  all  the  forces  that  go  to  fultill  that  de- 
sire on  the  other. 

A  wave  of  pity  svcpt  over  us  as  we  talked 
with  our  visitors.     They  had  all  the  miserable 
heritage    of    the    past  against    them;    the    fatal 
glamour   of   a   pantheistic   philosophy   and    the 
spell  of  caste  prejudice  were  woven  into  the  very 
fibre  of  their  being,  paralysing  every  tendency 
to  personal  dealing  with  God  or  the  exercise  of 
freedom;   to   them  religion  had  always  been  a 
round  of   punctilious  observances.  God  was  an 
idea  and  truth  a  name.     And  vet  there  was  much 
that   was   hopeful   in  their   outlook  ;    the   very 
Christian  ethics  which  the  cults  they  represented 
had  appropriated  as  their  own,  presented  them 
with  ideals  that,  spite  of  their  V'edic  labels,  were 
potenti.il  with  revolution  both  social  and  religious; 
some   of   them.  too.  had   been   in  contact  with 
Christian   teaching  m   the  Mission   schools,  and 
were   not   unacquainted  with   the  gospel  story. 
But  the  educated  Hindu  is  neither  to  be  argued 
nor  drilled  into  the  Christian  faith,   there  is  no 


Uniltr  the   MaiiL^o-Trces 


79 


translation  for  the  word  •'responsibility"  in  his 
vocabulary,  and  with  his  fatalistic  view  of  life, 
he  has  no  theoloj^ical  fears  nor  does  an  appeal  to 
the  danger  of  his  positiun  touch  hini;  he  will  be 
won  when  he  is  won  by  the  invincible  attractive- 
ness of  the  personality  of  Christ. 

I'erhaps  our  talk  di^!  lot  produce  conviction, 
but  it  did  not  lower  their  ideals;  we  sought  to 
bring  them  into  touch  with  Christ;  and  that 
something  of  His  spirit  had  caught  and  dominated 
their  feelings  towards  us  and  our  message  we 
were  made  to  feel  by  an  act  of  friendliness  on 
the  following  day.  Our  Rrahi.iin  friends  invited 
us  to  a  feast.  The  hosts'  accummodatiijn  was 
small  but  they  made  up  for  it  by  ihe  warmth  of 
their  hospitality.  We  were  received  in  a  small 
room  not  six  feet  square,  whose  mud  walls  were 
decorated  with  coloured  designs  of  impossible 
men  and  animals;  together  w'th  a  few  prints 
from  some  linglish  newspaper.  A  native  carpet 
covered  part  of  the  tloor,  while  an  linglish  lamp 
and  a  couple  of  chairs  showed  the  inevitable 
march  of  Anglicising  intluences.  Soon  the  /■7/j/;j 
(meal)  was  announced;  and,  escorted  by  our 
hosts,  we  proceeded  to  a  long,  low  room,  void 
of  any  furniture  except  a  few  stools  not  more 
than  four  inches  high,  and  on  which  we  were 


MICROCOPY    RESOLUTION    TEST    CHART 

-NSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  N„    . 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


28 
32 
36 


25 

12.2 

2.0 
i.8 


'•4      ill  1.6 


A     /1PPLIED  IIS/HGE     Inc 


.    -  C  300  -  Phone 

--    _  e.QPQ       r-v 


8o 


\  ill, me    W'oik    in    Imiia 


seated  while  we  .ite  our  meal  off  plates  of  irjcd 
leaves,  laid  out  i>n  the  newly  plastered  *  -f. 
(3ur  hosts,  thuULrh  caste  forbade  tliem  e.'tin^;, 
waited  on  us  with  their  own  hands.  A  descrip- 
tion of  the  food  would  be  almost  unintelligible  to 
an  l:Il,^li^h  reader;  needless  to  sav  the  menu  in- 
cluded nil  meats,  but  consisted  mainlv  of  curries, 
rice,  breadstuffs  fried  in  i,-//'  (luitterj  and  all 
served  cold.  These  were  followed  by  \arious 
kinds  of  sweetmeats,  some  quite  t.istv.  After 
the  fe.ist  was  over  we  adjourned  to  the  little 
rooii',  where  ^aii  sitp.iif  (betel  nut)  was  ser\-ed 
.tnd  we  were  decorated  with  garlands  of  jasmine 
and  roses.  N.itive  fond  is  not  alwavs  to 
Hnglish  taste,  but  the  condiment  that  made  all 
pal.itable  w.is  the  evident  desire  on  the  part 
of  our  triend.;  to  make  us  v.  elcome  and  do  us 
honour. 

The  heart  goes  out  after  such  young  men.  with 
their  immense  possibilities,  and  one  cannot  but 
feel  th.it  little  .itter  all  is  being  done  for  them. 
Some  .ire  reached  by  the  institutions  of  higher 
le.irning:  but  v/heii  we  realise  tliat  out  ot  the 
twenty-foLir  colleges  in  Calcutta  onlv  four  are 
missionary,  and  of  the  t'.v'enty -one  colleges  and 
professional  schools  -u  Bombay  [residency  only 
two  are  Christian,  we  see  what  an  immense  pro- 


l'n(l<'r  the    Maiirfo-Trrrs 


Si 


portion  of  even  the  stiulent  population  are  aw.iy 
from  such  contact,  to  say  nothing;  of  the  immense 
numbers  who  have  either  passed  beyond  school  in- 
fluence or  whose  whole  training;  has  been  at  secular 
institutions.  What  is  wanted  is  a  special  evan- 
gelistic propaganda  for  the  educated  classes  alons:,^ 
the  lifies  adopted  bv  the  foreii,m  department  of 
the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  m  the  presidencv  cities:— special 
meetings  to  reach  those  who  are  not  met  bv  the 
ordinary  evangelistic  methods,  only  reaching  out 
as  far  as  possible  into  every  town  and  village. 
Upwards  of  -i.cxxijKHi  of  these  young  men  speak 
Fnglish  and  could  be  reached  through  that 
medium.  Surelv  h^re  is  an  o(ipottunit\'  worthy 
ot  more  of  the  leaders  of  Christian  thought  m  the 
home  lands  giving  at  lea>t  a  p.ntion  of  their  time 
to  India's  evangelisation,  as  has  already  been  so 
fruitfully  done  by  the  lectures  on  the  Haskell 
foundation.  The  hopes  for  this  work  cannot  be 
better  expressed  than  in  the  words  of  the  founder 
of  one  of  their  own  sects,  Keshub  Chunder  Sen, 
—  "All  India  must  believe  th.it  Clirist  is  the  Son 
of  (Jod.  Nav.  more  than  tlii<,  I  will  make  mv- 
seh  bold  to  prophesy,  all  Indi.i  will  one  day 
acknowledge  Jesus  Christ  as  the  atonement,  the 
universal  atonement  for  ail  mankind.  He  has 
given  His  precious  blood  for  all  of  us  whether  we 


82 


\'ilhi<^('   Work   in   Iiidui 


believe  it  or  not.  ...  He  ha.s  done  His  work, 
let  us  do  ours,  l.t-t  us  bcl'eve  that  He  has  died 
for  you  and  mc,  and  the  atonement  on  our  .side 
is  completed.  " 


VI 

NIGHT   WORK    IN   THH    BAZAAR 

Thf  Indi.in  villuire  is  a  microcosm,  a  little 
world  in  itsclt,  independent,  and.  save  for  a  few 
articles  of  commerce,  self-contained.  It  con- 
sists of  two  straggling  lines  of  rude,  tile-roofed 
houses  facing  the  roadway  and  main  artery  of 
traffic,  with,  it  may  be,  a  few  side  streets  leading 
off  to  groups  (if  still  simpler  structures,  the 
homes  of  the  low-caste  labouring  classes,  who 
form  the  larger  part  of  the  village  community. 
Round  about  it  are  grouped  the  village  pond  or 
tank,  wells,  groves  and  fields,  the  title  to  ihe 
latter  being  hereditary  with  the  cultivators,  who 
pay  rental,  according  to  the  productiveness  of 
the  soil,  to  the  Zamiiuldr  or  landed  proprietor 
of  the  district,  as  representing  the  central  power. 
In  addition  to  the  field-labourers,  the  population 
consists  of  a  group  of  agriculturists  with  their 
patel,  pafu'ilrt  faccountant).  shopkeepers,  car- 
penter, blacksmith,  barber  and  watchman,  each 
working  for  and  dependent  on  the  rest.  The 
affairs  of  the  village  are  managed  by  the  liered- 

83 


84  Village   Work    in   India 

ilarv  headman,  his  assistant  officials  and  council 
ox  pauilhiyat,  with  rcfcieiice  in  uiniiiial  cases  to 
the  central  authority. 

From  time  immemorial  the  villaK^e   has  been 
India's   political   unit,   tlic  oldest  of  her  monu- 
ments.    Where  cities  of  palaces  have  fallen  and 
crumbled  .iw.iv,  the  ruined  viUa-e,  plurnix-like, 
has  reared  at,Min  its  mud  walls  and  presented  its 
red-tiled  roofs  to  the  sun   and  rains  of  heaven. 
in  the  heart  of  no  man  does  the  love  of  the  spot 
where    he   was  born   seem   more   deeply  rooted 
than    m    that   of   the    Hindu,    ca.>es    have    been 
known   ot  where,   m  troublous  limes,  villaiiers, 
having    been    dru'en    from    their  homes,  have 
returned,    after  the  second  or   third   generation, 
and  entered  uii  the  possession  of  their  rootless 
walls    and    waste    fields  with  as  little  litigation 
as    though    their  absence   had   been   that   of    a 

dav. 

Here  also  lies  embalmed  India's  conservatism. 
One  can  see  to-day,  trailing  out  m  the  early 
morning  across  the  oxen's  yoke,  the  same  rude 
plough  that  was  used  in  the  times  of  their  Aryan 
forefathers :  within  the  mud  walls  two  women 
sit  grinding  at  the  same  rude  stone  mills:  the 
same  fireplace  and  simple  utensils,  th.it  make  up 
the  household  furnishings,   still  line  the  w.ills; 


■r. 


y. 


y. 


Ni""l»t  Work   ill  rhc   Ixr/aar 


85 


while  their  few  wants  are  provided  for  in  the 
same  old  way. 

Standing  at  the  village  end  in  the  early  even- 
ing, watching  the  labourers  gathering  in  frou) 
the  fields  and  the  cattle  winding  their  dusty  %\'ay 
from  the  distant  jungle,  with  a  babble  of  strange 
chattering  voices  huz/jng  in  the  ears,  and  a  quicklv- 
changing  panorama  of  oriental  colours  flitting 
before  the  eyes,  against  a  background  of  dull 
grey  dust  and  mud,  with  here  and  there  the 
glimpse  of  whitewashed  walls  or  gaudily-hued 
temple,  and  in  the  distance  the  unskilled  notes  of 
some  native  instrument  rising  above  the  din,  one 
can  almost  imagine  himself  dropped  into  some 
picture  in  Arabian  Nights.  This  is  the  time 
when  the  village  is  ali  bustle  and  life.  The 
fields  without  are  deserted  by  man  and  beast, 
except  for  the  prowling  tiger,  the  panther  and 
the  howling  jackal;  but  within  the  security  of 
low  mud  walls,  the  tired  villagers  group  them- 
selves in  happy  gossip,  awaiting  eagerly  the 
evening  meal. 

It  is  the  impressionable  time  of  the  day,  the 
hour  which  from  time  immemorial  has  been 
dedicated  to  the  village  pundit,  to  discourse  on 
the  beauties  of  the  RiiniJ\\V!,i  and  MAIiAhliA- 
rata ;  and  we  missionaries  have  learned  not  to 


86 


N'ilhmc  Work   in    India 


ne^'Iect  its  opportunity.     Wc  cannot  reach  them 
with  liic  same  simple  methods  employed  during 
the  day;  the  ordinary  preaching  discourse  would 
be  unavailing  in  the  dark  ba/aar;  so  we  carry 
them  the  gospel  by  means  ot  the  Magic  Lantern, 
which,  with  Its  coloured  slides,  has  now  become 
a  recognised  armament  in  the  missionary  cam- 
paign.    The  villager  is  fond  of  anything  in  the 
nature  of  .i  taniAslia  ;  he  loves  to  see  the  chang- 
ing  colours  on  the  sheet;    the  pictures  aid  his 
dull  sense  in  understanding  the  unfamili.ir  story; 
and  he  will  st.ind  patiently  for  an  hour  or  more 
in  the  chill  atmosphere  of  the  market-place  to 
see  and  hear  tfie  gospel   message.     Usuallv,  on 
entering  a  hirge  town  or  village,  we  take  a  few 
photographs  of  familiar  scenes,  the  bazaar,  the 
temple,  or  a  group  of  schoolboys  and  preparing 
slides  at  our  tents,  throw  them  upon  the  screen, 
much  to  the  delight  of  the  ama/ed  villagers,  who 
are  led  thereby  to  give  all  the  more  attention  to 
the  gospel  pictures.     These  lantern  talks  are  full 
of  interest,  and  the  scenes  oftentimes  indelibly 
impress  the  story  on  the  childlike  village  mind. 
1   have   known   an  ignor.int.    jungle   Bhil,   who. 
after  much   persuasion   had  been  lured  by  curi- 
osity to  the  neighbouring  village,  and  with  awe- 
struck features  sat  in  perfect  silence  drinking  in 


Nijiht   Work    in   the   Il.izaar 


87 


the  story  of  some  \voiiJi.'itul  pii.luic,  tfll  over 
the  substance  of  it  a<,'.iiii  a  year  later. 

It    is   marvellous   the   widespread    fascination 

of  the  iantfiM  iiKctin^s  dignilied  officials, 
who  would  not  d'.i^ii  to  pause  and  listen 
to  a  bazaar  talk,  will  ha\e  their  chairs 
brought  out  and  give  close  attention  to  the 
explanation  of  the  pictures.  1  remember  one 
evening  a  number  of  haughtv  Brahmins  so  eager 
to  be  piesent  at  our  meeting  as  to  sit  down 
under  the  shelter  of  the  darkness,  with  low- 
caste  Cltamais  and  on  the  hitlers  \erandah;  and 
as  1  have  already  said  even  timid  hill-nien  have 
several  times  been  drawn  out,  thr.)Ugh  the  dark- 
ness, from  their  jungle  homes,  to  watch  the 
magic  pictures.  Almost  the  first  request,  when 
we  encamp  in  a  village,  is  for  the  lantern,  young 
and  old  crowding  round  us  on  our  entering  the 
bazaar  to  ask  if  we  are  not  going  to  show  them 
the  pictures.  The  meeting  is  usually  announced 
not  only  in  the  main  bazaar  but  in  the  neigh- 
bouring villages;  and  no  means  has  proved  as 
successful  for  gathering  large  crowds,  some- 
times six  and  eight  hundred,  even  a  thousand 
strong,  nor  as  powerful  in  holding  their  atten- 
tion and  fixing  the  gospel  stories  on  their  mind. 
In  all  our  methods  the  aim  is  the  same,  to  give 


88 


N'ilLi'M;    W'dik    in    Iiiiliu 


men  a  vision  of  Christ;  and  m  tlio  lantern  talks 
we  touch  the  Hindu,  with  his  strung  love  for 
imagery  and  the  picturesque,  m  hi^  must  sus- 
ceptible point. 

Anionj,'  our  afternoon  visitors  on  one  occasion 
was   the    Kao   Sahib  or  /imiii ;  and  as  we  had 
promised  to  leturn  his  call  in  the  evening,  we 
left  for  our  lantern  meeting  a  little  eaily.     On  the 
way  we  passed  a  marriage  procession;  laughing 
maidens  in  red,  blue  and  orange  ^irh,  singing 
tJH'ir  merrv  love  songs,  sober  matrons  b'.-aring  on 
tiieir  heads  travs  of  sweetmeats  and  gaily  coloured 
cloths,  bashful   youths  in  their  ill-titting  tinery 
and  staid  old  men.     In  front  walked  the  groom, 
a   weakly-louking    man   of   about   twenty-eight 
years,  the  least  attractive  individual  in  the  group, 
spite  of  his  gay  trappings.     But  where  was  the 
bride?    Following  the  sraif  that  bound  her  to 
her   future   husband,    we   saw,    nestling   in   her 
mother's  arms,  all  unsuspicious  of  the  cruel  and 
iMudinu  destinies  that  were  being  woven  round 
her  voung  life,  a  wee  babe  not  more  than  a  year 
old;   she  was  the  unfortunate  bride.     And  this 
unnatural,  and  to  them  eternal  union,  was  being 
forged  bv  the  cruel  monster  custom  at  the  bidding 
of  vain  superstition,  or.  it  may  be.  for  the  grati- 
fication of  human  pa^.-ion.     It  is  strange,  but  to 


NiLrlir   Woik.    in  the   H.r/.aar 


8.) 


our  roiiionstrances  the  women  tlu)iisL'lvcs  arc  tlic 
most  zealous  defenders  of  this  .ipp.ilhnt;  custom. 
It  would  sometimes  seem  as  if  the  miseiy  "i 
Christless  womanhood  only  bred  in  them  a  de- 
sire to  perpetuate  it  in  those  who  have  to  follow; 
the  years  of  her  bondau,e  have  wrought  their  own 
permanence. 

The  procession  was  on  its  way  to  make  an 
offering  at  a  shrine  on  the  neighbouring  hilltop, 
for  heathenism  loves  hii;h  places  and  lots  of 
noise.  The  clang  of  discordant  g.-ngs  and  the 
rumble  of  the  big  drums  as  we  passed  the  temple, 
where  the  gods  weie  being  put  to  sleep  for  the 
ni'^ht,  almost  deafened  us.  The  Rao  Sahib  was 
expecting  us  and  clhipi\issi\  with  very  faded  in- 
signia, but  colossal  importance,  shouted  offi- 
ciously to  the  bystanders  as  they  escorted  us  up  to 
the  gateway  and  through  a  garden  sweet  with 
the  smell  of  ripening  oranges  and  pomaloes. 
The  way  led  out  of  the  cnurtvard,  across  the 
wide  verandah  of  the  sombre  luh-lulin',  where 
Brahmin  clerks  drove  their  reed  pens,  or  sanded 
the  linished  page,  all  the  more  assiduously  be- 
cause of  the  passing  Si-.liih  /c^^  along  a  dark  mud- 
tloored  passage,  through  the  cow's  stable,  up  a 
narrow  break-neck  stairway,  impenetrable  to  a 
ray  of  light,  and  into  the  reception  room.     Our 


90 


N'illaiie   \Vi)rk    in    Intlia 


host  had  asked  his  music  teacher  to  come  and 
pkiy  for  us,  and  very  sweet  wore  some  oi  his 
melodies  spite  of  the  brass  strings  of  the  sitdra. 
He  also  had  tea  prepared,  but  1  tailed  to  recog- 
nise the  blend.  The  educated  Hindu  is  exceed- 
iii,L;Iv  courteous,  and  uur  friend  n^t  only  enter- 
tamed  us  with  some  nf  his  experiences,  but  ac- 
companied us  to  the  meeting  in  the  bazaar. 

Our  men  had  set  up  the  sheet,  by  means  of  its 
heav'v  te,ik-woi)d  fi.uiie.  in  the  broad  street  used 
as  a  maikct-place.  and  tb.ere  w.is  no  little  cough- 
ing and  snee/ing  as  the  sliUUling  feet  ot  the 
gathering  throng.  v\'hich  already  numbered  about 
^(X).  raised  the  pepper-laden  dust.  But  all  soon 
settled  down;  it  was  a  clear,  cool  night,  with  no 
moon  to  •■melt"  the  pictures;  the  light,  though 
ue  used  only  an  oil  lamp  was  good;  and  far  as 
the  reflection  carried,  eager,  bronzed  faces  focused 
six  liundred  eves  on  the  mauic-painted  canvas; 
e\'en  the  women  thronged  the  neighbouring  ve- 
randahs, anxious  not  to  miss  the  badri  Sahib's 
tdiiuHha. 

To  the  stranger  there  probably  seems  no  little 
danger  in  such  an  exhibition — the  distant  village, 
far  away  from  the  overawing  influence  of  Eiit'sh 
power,  the  ignor.int  throng,  with  religious  zeal 
quickly   fanned    into    f.inaticism,    the    darkness 


Ni^^lit    Work    ill   the   Bazaar 


9' 


covorinp;  any  attempt  at  mischief,  and  we  with 
our  small  numbers  and  delicate  apparatus  open 
at  many  points  to  att.ick.  And  yet  wo  carry  on 
these  evening'  meetinij^s  in  the  villages  of  Cemral 
Itidia.  '.,'ith  less  of  a[^prehension  than  would  he 
experienced  on  the  streets  of  our  cities  at  home. 
Probably  no  class  of  f(jreigners  can  go  in  and  nut 
of  the  viliaces  of  India  with  more  impunity  than 
the  missionary.  Though  cases  are  not  infre- 
quently reported  of  British  soldiers,  and  even 
officers,  being  attacked  in  the  villages,  in  spite  of 
their  arms,  such  an  e.xpe.icnce  is  practically  un- 
known among  missionaries.  We  enter  their 
bazaars  at  all  seasons,  either  day  or  night,  thou>'h 
we  know  that  our  audience  will  probably  include 
the  village  rowdies;  we  do  not  hesitate  to  tell 
them  of  their  faults  and  point  out  to  them  the 
evil  nf  their  customs;  and  we  nut  only  do  not 
carry  arms,  but  the  thought  of  resistance  does  not 
even  occur  to  us.  What  are  the  reasons  for  this 
immunity  .>  in  the  tirst  place  it  must  be  known 
th.it  the  religious  messenger  is  treated  with  as 
much  respect,  by  the  better  classes  in  India,  as 
he  would  be  under  similar  polemic  circumstances 
at  home.  Unless  it  might  be  under  some  sudden 
impulse  of  fanaticism,  his  person  is  to  them  in- 
violate.    To  be  sure  our  tnglish  citi/enship  must 


ViUa'T   Work    m    India 


92 

be   credited  with   smne   pa^t  "^  ^^^'^  ^^^P"^' ^f 
that  th>s  cannnt  fully  account  for  it.  IS  seen  by 

the  Hr.tish  soldier  sometimes  being  attacked 
where  the  missionary  goes  unscathed.  1  have 
stood  before  an  angry  and  excited  mob  for  over 
^n  hour,  where,  with  the  nearest  British  autnor- 
nvt.ltv  mile.  awav.  fear  could  have  moved  them 

but  little;  1  could  a. count  for  being  unm)ured. 
spue  of  threats  and  violent  gestures,  onlv  bv  my 
oHice  and  Its  message.  Again  the  missionarv  un- 
derstands the  people  and  their  wavs,  and  speaks 
then-  language  .noref reel V  than  an V  other  cbss; 

,n  all  cases  of  trouble  or  emergency  he  is  in 
clo^crtou.h  with  them  and  ktv.ws  better  how  to 

handle  their  fears  and  passions.  In  the  bread 
riots  during  a  l.te  famine,  it  was  a  missionary 
,vho  wem  down  among  the  angry  mob  m  one 

of  our  ba/aars  and  did  much  to  persuade  the  peo- 
ple from  their  unlawfulness.    M--;-;\'^;^^ 

Lssionarv-s  business  to  be  kind  and  belpful.  and 
the  people  is  vet  unborn  who  are  altogether  m- 
appreciative  of  kindness.  In  famine  or  sickne.s. 
,n  all  kinds  of  distress,  all  classes  of  people  nat- 

„,,llv  seek  the  .tiissionarv.  l:ven  the  native 
grooms  of  the  cavalry  and  artillerv  regimen  s 
in  cantonmet^t  distinguish  amon,  the  soldie  s 
those   who   are  kind  to  them,  and  significantly 


Nidir  Work,   in  t!ic  Bazaar 


93 


call  them  p.idn-s.ihib  (missionary)  soldiers.  In 
the  bazaai-  no  one  is  more  respected  or  wields 
more  moral  influence  than  the  missionary,  and 
even  amon;,'  those  who  profess  no  interest  in  his 
message,  he  numbers  many  friends. 

(lertainlv  baptisms  are  resented,  especially  by 
the  caste  of  the  one  received;  but  the  resentment 
is  more  against  the  convert  than  the  preacher. 
We  are  perfectly  open  about  our  purpose;  and 
many,  especially  where  their  own  family  is  not 
affected,  are  willing  to  admit  liberty  of  con- 
science. Many  also  recognise  that  the  inevitable 
destiny  of  India  is  to  become  Christianised.  And 
even  when,  under  some  sudden  excitement,  the 
inflammable  fanaticism  of  the  masses  bursts  into 
a  fury  of  ignorant  hatred,  the  great  majority  still 
remain  true  to  their  respect  for  the  missionary. 
Dissociated  in  the  native  mind  from  political  ao-- 
gression,  and  conducted  in  the  long-sufTering 
spirit  of  Christ,  the  missionary  propagand.i 
among  the  great  nations  of  the  Bast  has  little  to 
fear  of  personal  violence. 

There  was  no  evidence  of  either  hatred  or  op- 
position in  our  village  audience  on  this  occasion. 
They  were  not  onlv  an  interested  but  a  happy 
crowd.  The  greater  p.iit  of  the  village  was  out; 
shopkeeper  rubbed  against  farm-labourer,  Brah- 


94 


Vilhi'M'   Work   in   Imlia 


nun  a-ain^t  Cluunar.  in  the  abandon  of  a  new 
tainulu  and  under  tiK-  shadow  of  uncommuni- 
cative night.     Some  had  climbed  into  empty  bul- 
lock carts  by  the  side  of  the  roadwav.  crowing 
like  schoolboys  at  their  elevated  position;  others 
h  ,d  a  coign  of  vantage  both  tor  seeing  and  hear- 
ing in  the  i-ai>,      verandahs  of  the  .hop  1  rents. 
Amon-  the  latter  were  not  a  tew  women,  m.iny 
of  whose  faces  also  peeped  out  eagerly  trom  the 
neighbouring  doorways,  some  even  venturing  to 
the  outskirts  of  the  crowd,  their  shrill  though 
.vibdued  comments  mingling  occasionally  with 
the  remarks  of  the  boys.      These  last  were  much 
,n  evidence,  for  i,oU-ir~  roles  we  must  give  them 
;i  front  seat;  so  they  had  been  arranged  in  rows. 
oil-sellers  son.  bunya  boys,  tarmers  and  even  a 
bolder  Oi.uiLV     all  squatting  close  together  in 
the  dusty  roadway,  as  oblivious  to  the  presence 
of  any  one  else  as  though  the  exhibitmn  were  all 
their  own;  and  perfectly  happy,  spite  of  an  oc- 
casional cut   from   the  end  of  a  bamboo,  xvhen 
their  comments  on  the  pictures  or  their  gibes  at 
one  another  grew  too  vociferous.     Boys  are  boys 
the  world  over,  and  we  seldom  get  through  an 
evening's  meeting  without  a  stick  or  two  being 
forfeited,  which  were  serving  as  means  of  tor- 
ture to  all  within  reach,  or  some  specially  mis- 


Night  Work  in  the  Bazaar  95^ 

chicvous  lad  being  led  off  ignominiously  by  the 
ear. 

Though  we  have  been  conducting  these  lantern 
meetings  fur  many  years,  we  have  seldom  had  a 
hitch.  Somelinies  the  oil  has  been  poor,  but  we 
provide  for  this  by  carrying  a  drum  of  the  best 
kerosene  with  us.  Several  times  the  fraine, 
though  strong  and  heavy,  has  been  broken  in 
the  long  journeys  over  the  rough  jungle  roads, 
but  the  branch  of  a  tree  or  the  corners  of  two 
projecting  roof-tops  are  easily  brought  into  req- 
uisition. On  one  occasion  the  slide  carrier  was 
left  behind,  but  the  light  cane  of  one  of  the 
workers,  split  and  bound  bv  two  transverse 
pieces  and  twine  into  a  rude  square,  formed  a 
sufficient  substitute  to  carry  us  through  the  meet- 
ing. Touring,  however,  has  become  so  much  of 
an  art,  the  magic-lantern  apparatus  all  being  in  its 
own  case,  that  there  is  little  room  for  anything 
going  astray.  Moreover  it  is  easilv  handled:  the 
whole  can  be  set  up  while  the  crowd  is  gathering 
and  removed  ere  it  is  dispersed. 

Difficulties  arise  from  without  also.  One  even- 
ing when  we  had  set  up  our  sheet  in  a  narrow 
roadway,  the  only  thoroughfare  in  the  village, 
we  were  obliged  to  stop  in  the  midst  of  our 
meeting,  remove  the  sheet  and  lantern,  and  allow 


(/. 


\'ill:iOT   Work   in   Indi;) 


a  belated  licrd  of  cattle  to  go  by.  Sometimes 
where  the  caste  feeling  runs  liigh,  wc  have  diffi- 
culty in  the  selection  of  a  place  of  meeting,  and 
generally  h.ive  t.^  compromise  by  going  into  the 
main  bazaaf-  one  evening,  and  among  the  low- 
caste  people  another.  Occasionally  the  attrac- 
tions of  a  wedding  feast  are  too  strong  to  be 
counteracted  by  our  pictures;  then  we  have  to 
divide  the  interest  as  well  as  the  roadway  with 
the  shrieks  of  cracked  trumpets  and  the  bellow- 
ings  of  noisv  tomtoms,  vvithout  which  no  mar- 
riage could  be  orthodo.x  in  India.  Seldom,  how- 
ever, have  we  had  a  serious  interruption  and 
never  has  it  been  my  experience  to  have  the 
lantern  meeting  broken  up. 

The  night  was  still  and  cool,  and  I  felt  glad  of 
mv  long  ulster  to  wrap  around  me  when  I  was 
not  speaking:  but  it  did  not  seem  to  affect  the 
crowd,  though  their  bare  limbs  and  thinly  clad 
shoulders,  boasting,  most  of  them,  nothing  more 
than  a  single  cotton  shirt,  mus-*  have  been  stiiT 
with  cold.  The  interest  was  intense:  a  pro- 
gramme had  been  arranged  and  each  speaker 
knew  exactly  v\  hen  his  turn  would  come.  After 
a  few  scenes  from  tluir  own  and  neighbouring 
villages,  and  some  views  of  Canada,  we  had  a 
hymn  thrown  on  the  sheet,  and  then  began  the 


Niglit  Work   in  the  Bazaar  97 

addresses;  first  the  pjrabies  of  "  The  rich  fool  •' 
and  "The  rich  man  and  La/arus."  so  puiipently 
applicable    to    lite    111    India;    then    the   story  of 
"The   tares,"    "The   hid   treasure,"   and   "The 
lost  sheep,"  closin^r  xvith  the  old  story  that  never 
grows  old,  and  is  the  same  in  all  langua,i;es  and 
in  every  land,   "The  prodigal  son."     It  would 
require  a  powerful  cinematograph  to  depict  the 
changing  expression  on  the  rude  village  faces  as 
for  the  first  time  these  divine  masterpieces  came 
across  their  spiritual  vision,  and  the  lessons  ran 
athwart  their  experience.     They  stood  many  of 
them  as  if  entranced,  while  picture  after  picture 
was  flashed  before  their  eyes,  only  an  occasional 
"slij/\7sli"    (well   done)  or    ■■  sjcl!    hai"   (it  is 
true),  betraying  the  feelings  that  were  stirring 
within  their  hearts. 

1  have  no  apologv  to  make  for  this  method  of 
evangelisation.  Some  may  object,  some  scoff  at 
such  an  instrumentality.  1  can  only  say  that  in 
no  work  of  my  life  have  I  felt  more  uplifted, 
more  satisfied  that  God's  benediction  was  upon 
me  than  in  these  stirring  evening  meetings  in  the 
villages— the  sustained  interest,  the  freedom  from 
interruption,  the  spell  that  seems  to  hold  our 
hearers  even  after  the  service  is  over,  the 
deep,    heart-felt   "Salaam!"   with    whi.h    thcv 


gS  Village   Woik   in   Iiuiu 

bid    us     farewell,    all     speak    of    the     Spirit's 

power. 

At  the  close  of  our  meeting  we  were  ui  some 
difficulty  as  to  how  to  get  our  apparatus  back  to 
camp.     Usually  we  have  our  own  bullock  cart, 
but  it  had  ,t;"'i^'  ^''>  Mhow  during  the  afternoon 
for  provisions,  and  the  villagers  were  very  loth 
to  go  out  after  dark.     While  we  were  pursuing 
our   enquiries,   and   as   usual,  even  in  the  little 
things,  looking  up  higher  for  aid,  a  man  came 
forward  wilh  smiling  countenance,  and  asked  if 
wc  did  not  remember  him.     He  was  a  bullock 
driver  who  had  one  day  got  into  trouble,  many 
miles  away  on  the  streets  of  Mhow,  and  1  had 
been  able  to  help  him.     He  gladly  volunteered 
to  go  for  his  cart,  and,  spite  of  the  trouble,  the 
lateness  and  the  dark,  carried  our  things  safely 
back  to  camp. 

As  we  neared  the  grove  where  our  tents  were 
pitched  we  could  hear  solemn  and  persuasive 
tones  as  of  one  preaching,  and  wc  caught  a 
glimpse  of  an  interested  group  round  the  camp- 
fire.  It  was  the  cook,  who,  having  dinner 
ready,  had  gathered  about  him  the  village  cliow- 
hiJais,  and  was  relating  to  them  his  own  experi- 
ences and  the  wonderful  merits  of  the  gospel; 
nor  did  his  earnestness  make  out  simple  meal 


1 


Ni^^hr   Work    in   the   Bazaar  99 

one  whit  the  less  tasty.  It  vv.k  not  an  unlitting 
picture  to  close  an  evening  with  some  of  God's 
masterpieces;  for  "How  beautiful  upon  the 
mountains  are  the  fe^-t  uf  him  that  bnngeth 
good  tidings,  thai  pubhsheth  peace." 


CHAPTER  VII 

AGAINST  C-Kl.AT  ODDS 

It  is  market  day  .md  the  bazaar  is  crowded,  for 
the  countryside  has  taken  a  holiday  and  come  to 
town.     They  cunie  by  couples,   they   come  by 
families,  they  come  by  villages;  to  see  and  to  be 
seen,  to  buy  or  to  sell,  to  pay  their  rents  to  the 
Thakur   or   make   some   complaint  against  their 
neighbours.     The  little,  box-like  shops  on  either 
side  of  the  market-place,  with   their  low,   tiled 
roofs  and  stone  sills  abutting  out  over  the  ill- 
smelling  drain,  are  surrounded  with  eager  pur- 
chasers;   out    in    the    --ad way,    in    two    long 
straggling  lines,  a  little  in  front  of  the  shops,  the 
vegetable  women   have  spread  their  baskets  of 
onions  and  red  peppers,  greens  and  cucumbers; 
here  and  there  a  trinket-seller  displays  his  wares 
on  a  faded  cloth  to  catch  the  eye  of  the  jewellery- 
loving  Hindu  and  the  dust;  in  the  most  favoured 
sites  the  cloth  and  brass  merchants  have  erected 
their   booths,    from   which   they  bargain   good- 
naturedly  with  the  crowd;  in  a  quiet  corner  the 
shoemaker  plies  his  despised  but  necessary  trade, 

lOO 


A'Minsr  (Jrc.ir  Odiis 


101 


while   down  a  side  street,    away   from   ofTence 
to    Brahmin    susceptibilities,    the    Mohammedan 
butcher  barters  goat's  tlesh  to  his  co-reiigionists. 
Crowds  of  women  in  led  and  blue  Siins,  vvilii 
market  lnl^kcls  (in  tiu'ir  heads,  stand  gossiping 
..iid  bar^Mining  with  the  shopkeepers;  clustered 
round  a  bunya  i  .stall  are  the  poor  \illagers  who 
have  walked  ten  miles  to  get  an  extra  yard  of 
cloth  for  then   rupee;  how  touchingly  human  to 
see  a  man   and   his  wife,  meagrelv  clad   both  of 
them,   fingering  some  coveted   piece  of  gnod.; 
while  they  haggle  with  the  bunya  for  a  turther 
reduction,  if  it  be  onW  a  pice;  standing  in  gos- 
siping groups  discussing  cn.ps  and  the  probabil- 
ities   for    the    rains,    are    tb.e    more   substantial 
farmers  and  tradesmen,   who  boast  perhaps  ,\n 
old  pony  to  ride;  there  struts  the  dude  with  his 
pink  coat  and  pale  green  turban;  these  supercili- 
ous individuals  with  broad  Marathi  turbans  and 
clean  well-fed  faces,  arc  the  government  ol'licials; 
conspicuous  also  are  the   Mohammedan  pedlar, 
the    policeman,    the   soldier,    the    priest   and  the 
pundit;    and    last    of   all    there    are    your    better 
known  friends  the  missionary  and  one  or  two  of 
his  native  helpers,   for  we  are  present  also   on 
market  days. 
We  come  neither  to  see  nor  be  seen,  neither 


102 


\'ill.i<''<-   Work    in    liulia 


to  buy  nor  sell,  unless  it  may  be  tracts.     Ours  is 
more  than  a  passing  interest;  these  multitudes 
are    human    souls,    struggling    with    the    great 
problem  of  human  destiny,  and  we  have  come  to 
give  them  the   "bread  of  life."     We  choose  a 
shady   spot,    beneath  a  tree  or  in  the  sIu-Iut  of 
some  protlered  shop  front,  for  even  thi-  Hindu 
likes  to  get  out  of  this  ever-broiling  sun.  and  an- 
nounce our   presence   by  singing   one   of  those 
beautiful  Hindi  lyrics  which  have  translated  the 
gospel  story  into  the  melody  of  the  people,  ac- 
companying it.  as  the  case  may  be,  with  con- 
certina or  baby  organ.     The  crowd  soon  gathers, 
for  the  Hindus  have  one  characteristic  th.it  may 
vet  prove  their  salvation,  they  are  very  curious. 
The  hvnm  over,  one  of  us  will  begin  to  speak, 
probably  explaining  the  meaning  of  the  words 
we  have  si.ng,  and  showing  through  their  inter- 
pretation, who  we  are,  the  great  Master  \k  honi 
we  serve,  and  His  message  which  we  have  come 
to  deliver. 

In  standing  before  an  Indian  audience,  the  mis- 
sionary's first  difficulty  is  with  the  language.  It 
is  not  a  mere  matter  of  grammar,  though  the 
Hindu  lives  l.irgely  in  the  subjunctive  mood;  nor 
vet  of  vocabulary,  though  the  villager  thinks  ana 
talks  in  metaphors.      For  instance  he  does  not 


A,LX;linNr   Cite. it    Odds 


lO^ 


speak  ot  "going  tor  ii  walk,"  but  of  ••eatmg  llu' 
air."  nor  (jf  "repentance"  but  of  "catching  his 
ear,"  and  "  haste  '  is  expressed  by  such  a  phrase 
as  "  breaking  bread  in  one  place  and  taking  drink 
in  another."  bven  when  words  and  phrases 
have  been  learned,  llieir  content  to  tlie  Huropean 
is  often  very  dilfeient  from  the  meaning  they 
convey  to  the  Hindu.  Such  terms  as  "God," 
"sin,"  "righteousness,"  "holiness."  etc.,  have 
an  entirely  different  signiticance  to  the  missionary 
from  his  hearers,  and  in  using  them  their  new 
content  must  be  made  plain.  Again  such  com- 
mon Christian  conceptions  as  "  justilication," 
"sanctification"  and  even  ••conscience"  have  no 
parallels  in  the  Hindu  mind. 

Closely  connected  with  the  use  of  these 
terms  is  the  dit'ticultv  of  understanding  the 
Hindu's  view'-pomt.  His  conception  of  God  and 
man's  relationship  to  Him,  of  sin  and  man's  re- 
sponsibility, and  of  human  destinv  are  so  dif- 
ferent, th.it  to  speak  without  entering  into  these, 
and  explaining  his  meaning,  the  preacher  might 
often  be  talking  to  the  wind. 

Even  with  these  difficulties  cont]uered,  it  is  not 
easy  to  hold  a  Hindu  audience,  for  it  is  verv 
fickle  and  curiosity  soon  tires.  One  must  follow 
its  vagaries,  understand  its  temper,  be  quick  to 


10^ 


N'illa'Tf   Work   in    India 


discern  lack  of  interest  and  none  the  less  ready  to 
check  It.  Christianity  is  to  the  Hindu  a  new 
idea,  it  is  out  of  his  ken,  so  to  speak;  it  presents 
phases  of  thou^dn  tlut  have  never  entered  his 
mind  before;  it  is  no  message  of  the  gods  he  is 
accustomed  to,  it  deals  with  neither  food,  cloth- 
ing nor  pice,  why  should  he  hear  it?  Nor  can 
one  be  satisfied  with  mere  attention;  when 
preaching,  I  have  seen  a  man  stand  with  eyes 
glued  on  my  face,  seemingly  drinking  in  the 
words  with  both  eyes  and  ears,  and  at  the  most 
interesting  part  of  the  discourse,  turn  to  his 
neighbour  and  ri-inark  "the  padri  sahib  must  be 
very  young,  he  has  no  mustache.  "  Christianity 
has  a  hard  battle  to  light  for  it  meets  with  oppo- 
sition at  almost  every  point  of  contact,  and  is 
opposed  to  the  very  genius  of  the  Hindu;  it 
assails  his  religion,  his  daily  life,  his  national 
customs  and  the  teachings  of  his  forefathers,  its 
only  redeeming  feature  being  that  it  is  kind  and, 
unlike  Mohammedanism,  does  nothing  bv  force. 
Behind  all  these  difficulties  is  the  ever-present 
foe  of  indifference.  Non-Christians  are  far  from 
the  eager,  truth-devouring  beings  of  childhood's 
memories;  most  of  them  are  penectly  indifferent 
to  the  Word  of  Life  we  bring  them,  or  interested 
'jnly  in  so  far  as  it  satisfies  their  curiosity  or  af- 


F 


y. 


Against  Grt-ar  Odds  105 

fords  them  fntcit;iiiinu'!U  for  an  idle  hour. 
There  is  a  savniK  aiiumj^  the  villagers  : 

"  Sinche  koi  na  mane ;  jkUthejag  patiyae  ; 
Gall  i^ali  floras  f  hire,  maJira  baith  bikae." 

(Man  heeds  not  truth,  but  liats  to  lies; 

Alas!  such  is  man's  will 
He  tramps  the  stieets  who  milk  supplies; 

While  li'iuor  men  sit  still  / 

Some  spicy  or  questionable  tale,  some  piece  of  idle 
gossip  or  lewd  song  is  more  to  theii  taste.  Time 
and  again,  as  we  stand  in  the  market-place  pro- 
claiming Christ's  free  salvation  for  all,  only  the 
few  gather  to  the  gospel  sound,  while  all  around 
us  men  are  chattering  about  money,  clothes, 
fields  or  their  neighbours,— this  is  the  most  subtle 
and  depressing  of  all  our  opponents. 

Even  less  trying  than  indifference  is  open  op- 
position; sometimes  we  rather  welcome  it,  for  if 
from  an  honest  heart  it  sets  people  thinking.  It 
is  of  various  kinds  and  seldom  physical.  One 
evening  on  the  streets  of  the  city  we  were  at- 
tacked with  stones  by  a  Mohammedan  mob  who 
had  been  worsted  in  an  argument;  and  occasion- 
ally, if  we  prolong  our  talks  till  after  dark,  we 
will  be  pelted  with  sand  and  mud,  but  this  is 
generally  the  sport  of  boys.  More  frequently  the 
wags  of  a  village  interrupt  the  preaching  to  show 


io6 


\'ill.i<:i-   Work   in    India 


off  or  raise  a  laii^h.     They  do  nothing  serious, 
only  a'^k  ridiculous  questions  or  p<'ke  fun  at  the 
speakers.     In  such  cases  one  must  never  become 
disconcerted  or  lose  his  temper:  it   you  under- 
stand  vour  audience  and  are   quick-witted,  you 
will    snon    turn   tlie   lau,i;h  or  overawe  the   dis- 
turber.    More  than  once  have  1  seen  some  worth- 
less braggart,    wlio   was  making  sport  of  holy 
things,  completely  subdued  by  a  solemn  rebuke 
or    an    appeal    to    the  reverent   feelings   of   the 
crowd.     Of  course  we  give  even  the  most  worth- 
less opponent   a   chance;  we  will  answer  ijues- 
tions  either  at  th.e   close  of  the  address  or  at  the 
tents,  and  we  always  have  a  standing  invitation 
to  meet  any  one,  either  at  his  own  or  our  place 
of  appointment  to  discuss  religious  differences. 
But  if.  as  frequently  happens,  it  be  some  flippant 
youth  desiring  to  be  wise  or  funny  before  the 
crowd,  the  surest  way  of  stopping  hi^  annoy- 
ance  is   to   turn  on  him  his  own  l.uiLdi.     To  a 
Western  audience  the  arguments  that  find  favour 
in  an  Indian  ba/aar,  and  no  less  the  devices  used 
to  silence  or  replv,  would  appear  childish.     The 
average    Oriental    with    all    his   subtlety    is    no 
reasoner,  real  argument  he  is  either  unable  or  un- 
willing to  understand,  and  real  discussion  with  a 
man  who  was  insincere  would  mean  dissipating 


Against  Crn.at   Odds 


107 


your  audience  and  losing  an  opportunity.  But 
when  he  dues  not  heed  your  polite  request  to 
wait  till  the  address  is  over,  when  he  will  not  be 
quieted  but  persists  in  his  interruption,  his  ques- 
tion must  be  answered  though  i*  requires  more 
of  wit  than  bra'ns  to  do  it. 

On  one  occasion,  in  the  middle  of  a  gospel 
talk,  a  man  had  persisted  in  the  unprofitable  but 
not  uncommon  question,  "Where  did  sin  come 
f rom  .>  "     At  turning  on  him,  1  said,  "  What's 

that  ?"  "  V.  i.ere  did  sin  come  from,  what  is  the 
origin  of  bin?"  he  repeated,  looking  round  the 
audience  with  a  self-satisfied  leer,  as  if  to  say 
"  Now  I've  given  the  Padri  Sahib  a  poser."  I  did 
not  attempt  to  answer;  1  knew  the  objection  to 
be  a  stock  question,  and  th.it  he  had  his  reply 
ready  whatever  1  might  h.ive  answered;  '"^ut, 
turning  to  the  crowd,  1  said:  "A  certain  man's 
house  was  on  tire.  .Apparently  unconscious  of 
his  danger,  the  householder  was  lying  asleep  in- 
side. At  no  little  risk  to  their  lives  his  friends 
rushed  in  to  drag  him  out,  calling  on  him  to  save 
himself.  What  was  their  surprise  to  hear  him 
reply,  '  I  have  no  desire  to  be  saved,  I  will  nut 
leave  mv  bed  till  1  lind  out  the  origin  of  the  fire.' 
What  think  vou  of  such  a  man  ?"  "  Why  he's  a 
fool,  "  answered  several  people  at  once.     "Well 


lo8  V'illagf   Work   in   India 

then/'    i    replied,   pointing    to  the    interrupter. 
"  what  do  you  think  .'f  ihis  man  ?    We  are  in  a 
world  of  sin,  men  all  round  us  are  dying  of  sin. 
But  when  1  come  to  warn  you  and  tell  you  of  a 
way  of  escape,  this  man,  instead  of  heeding  the 
message  or  permitting  others  to  heed,  says  he 
wants  to  know  nothing  of  the  escape  from  sin 
till  he  has  first  found  out  its  origin.'     But  the  inter- 
rupter did  not  wait  for  their  opinion,  and  1  had 
the  undivided  attention  of  my  audience  while  1 
continued    to  tell   them    of    "the   escape   from 

sin." 

On  another  occasion  a  priest  was  defending 
idolatry  by  the  usual  pantheistic  contention  that 
all  things  were  divine,  therefore  the  image.     I 
could   not   but   feel   that,   with   his  intelligence, 
there  was  more  of  mercenary  motive  than  faith 
in  his  profession,  as  1  glanced  over  at  the  almost 
shapeless  mass  under  the  neighbouring  archway, 
smeared  with   red   paint  and   grease,    and  sur- 
rounded with   broken   cocoanut   shells   and   the 
scraps  left  bv  the  village  dogs.      Picking  up  a 
stone  from  the  roadside,  I  asked  him: 

"  Is  this  divine?" 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  hesitatinglv,  not  quite  see- 
ing whither  1  was  leading  him. 

"And  the  rupee,"  (which  1  had  requested  him 


Atiiiinst  Great   Odds 


\C() 


to  produce  from  a  fold  in  hs  turban)  "  is  that 
a'so  divine  r" 

"Oh,  yes,"  he  answered,  not  quite  so  reluc- 
tantly. 

"Which."  said  I,  "contains  the  more  divinity, 
the  stone  or  the  silver  rupee?" 

"  Oh,  the  stone,  it  is  the  larger." 

"Well,  then,"  I  replied,  "let  us  trade." 

But  he  did  not. 

The  rougher  element  among  the  Moham- 
medans is  c\en  more  difficult  to  control  and  more 
unscrupulous  and  vulgar  in  its  style  of  objection 
than  among  the  Hindus.  Where  it  is  mere 
rowdyism,  throwing  mud  or  baiting  the  speakers 
with  offensive  remarks,  one  must  just  be  patient; 
and  if  forbearing,  can  generally  count  on  the 
sympathies  of  the  crowd,  in  other  cases  one 
must  depend  on  diplomacy.  One  evening  our 
men  were  preaching  in  the  oazaar  of  a  town  near 
the  Nerbudda.  One  after  another,  the  speakers 
had  been  interrupted  by  the  irrelevant  questions 
and  unsavory  remarks  of  a  loud  voiced  Moham- 
medan on  the  outskirts  of  the  crowd.  Kvery  re- 
quest to  desist,  even  the  attempts  of  those  in  the 
audience  near  him,  proved  of  no  avail  to  quiet 
his  disturbance.  In  the  middle  ot  an  address  by 
an  old  catechist,  one  of  those  animals  so  coni- 


1  10  \'il!.i;j;t;   Wnik   in   India 

inonly  found  wandering  about  an  Indian  bazaar, 
witli  small  body,  big  head  and  prodigiously  large 
cars,  poked  his  nose  into  the  outer  circle  and 
sang  out  a  vigorous  "  Hee!  Haw!  "  The  speaker 
stopped,  and.  pausing  a  moment,  cast  his  eye 
round  the  crowd  and  enquired,  •'Where's  that 
talking  machine?  We  wont  keep  him  any 
longer,  as  his  brother's  come  to  call  tor  him." 

As  it  is  our  custom  never  to  engage  in  discus- 
sion in  the  bazaar,  where  it  would  only  engender 
unseemly  strife,  we  frequently  have  to  stand  by 
our  offer  and  iiieL-l  men,  either  at  our  tents  or  at 
some  appointed  building.     Vv'e  have  had  many 
such  encounters  with  fanatical  moulvies,  subtle 
Brahmin  priests  and  ash-clad  fakirs.     I  was  called 
to  the  schoolhouse  one  evening  by  a  sudden 
message  that  a  moulvie  and  a  crowd  of  followers 
had    come    to    discuss    religion    with    me.     On 
hurrying  duv\n,  1  found  a  rather  motley  crowd 
gathered,  representing  all  classes  of  Mohammedan 
society    cooks,  shopkeepers,   teachers  and  gov- 
ernment officials.      The   moulvie   was  a   rather 
effeminate  looking  man,  dressed  in  a  long,  some- 
what  dirty  white  Jnirta   (tunic)  and  paijamas. 
He  was  a  stranger  to  Mhow,  evidently  a  Pathan, 
as  was  betrayed  by  both  features  and  dialect,  but 
especially  by  his  shaggy,  fair-skinned  attendants. 


Ajrainst  Great  Odds 


111 


I 


He  liad  come  tn  MIidw  to  stir  up  his  co-religion- 
ists; It  IS  s.iiJ  he  came  among  them  like  a  veri- 
table John  the  Baptist,  awakening  them  from  their 
easy-going  religious  indifference,  searching  out 
every  breach  of  MMhaninu-Jaii  law.  and  visiting 
it  with  all  possible  pun  ^hment.  His  zeal  tinally 
overstepped  the  patience  of  the  authorities  and 
he  was  obliged  to  leave  the  cantonment. 

On  his  entering  the  schoolroom,  all  conversa- 
tion ceased  and  everv  man  rose  to  his  feet. 
Without  waiting  for  arrangements,  but  like  one  in 
authoritv,  he  immediately  took  the  meeting  into 
his  own  hand  and  poured  out  a  volley  of  objec- 
tions to  some  of  the  doctrines  of  Christianity, 
more  particularly  the  divinity  of  Christ.  He 
asked  cjuestion  after  question  without  waiting 
for  reply.  Like  one  of  those  mountain  torrents 
on  his  native  hi'lsides,  he  dashed  imj-ietuously  on 
and  there  was  no  stopping  him.  flc  talked  not 
so  much  to  me  as  to  his  own,  his  voice  rising  in 
pitch  and  increasing  in  intensity  as  the  speech 
flowed  on.  Nor  was  n  without  considerable 
effect  even  on  these  half-tamed  Mohammedans 
of  the  plains;  every  eye  was  li.xcd,  every  nerve 
seemed  tense  and  strung.  What  a  terrible  thing 
must  such  fanaticism  be  among  the  wild  hill 
tribes   of  the  fiontier  and  on  the  lips  of  a  "Mad 


1  1 


VillaiTc   NN'ork   in    Iiidi.i 


Mull.ih"!  When  he  stopped  k.r  breath,  1  was 
able  ti)  intellect  a  proposal  that  he  should  submit 
his  questions  one  at  a  nine.  1  he  lesuituiK  de- 
bate, however,  w.i^  not  quite  as  picturesque  as 
the  moulvie's  address.  His  evident  intention  was 
not  so  much  to  get  at  the  truth  as  to  make  an 
impression  on  his  followers;  to  him,  as  to  most 
Mohammedans,  discussion  was  a  sort  of  passion; 
he  argued  for  argument's  sake  and  his  great  aim 
was  to  gain  his  point.  His  methods  may  be 
judged  from  the  fact  that  during  the  debate  he 
h.id  no  difficulty  even  in  denying  the  (,Hiran  for 
the  sake  of  argument.  The  only  advantage  from 
the  discussion  was  that  when  all  the  questions 
had  been  asked,  I  w  's  given  an  opportunity  to 
speak  at  length  and  present  the  claims  of  the 
gospel,  and  to  an  audience  that  1  had  seldom  be- 
fore had  the  juivilege  of  reaching. 

The  moulvie  and  1  met  on  several  occasions, 
one  of  them  being  an  address  I  gave,  at  his  own 
request,  on  the  claims  of  Christ.  I  found  them 
not  unsusceptible,  especially  to  the  arguments 
from  their  own  <Juran,  as,  gathering  out  its 
broken  fragments  of  the  divine  message,  I  pieced 
them  togcthe.-  round  Jesus. 

1  have  said  nething  about  the  opposition  of 
the  priesthood,   the  unfriendliness  of  the  native 


A^^ainst  Great  Odds 


>n 


governments    :ind    other    forces    which    go    to 
swell    the    ranks    opposed    to    the    advance   of 
the  gospel;  these  will  be  manifest  from  incidents 
related   elsewhere.     But   behind   these   unveiled 
opponents  there  lie  more  deeply  looted  still  the 
blighting  curse  of  idolatry,  the  terrible  despotism 
of  caste  and  custom  and  the  subtle  anesthetic  of 
a  pantheistic  philosophy.     The  Hindu  is  clothed  in 
an  armuur  in  which  no  link  seems  incomplete; 
socially,  intellectually  and  rel'giously.  he  has  an 
answer  ready  at  every  point  of  attack.     And  yet 
his  heart  is  not  impenetrable;  glossed  over  with 
superstition,  bound  down  by  conservatism,  per- 
verted by  the  false  teaching  of  ages,  and  stupefied 
by  an  equally  false  philosophy,  great  aspirations 
and  great  possibilities  lie  sleeping  there.     We  do 
not  feel  these  in  the  big  bazaar;  but  in  the  little 
talks   by   the    roadside,    in    front   of   the   village 
temple,   or  sitting  cross-legged  in   tlie  shade  of 
some    friendly  verandah,   we   see   the  veil  lifted 
from  the  rude  villager's  heart,  and  hold  converse 
with  his  inner  soul.     The  light  is  severe  and  the 
odds  against  us  great,  but  looming  up  through 
the  awakening  life  in  these  village  hearts  we  see 
the  broken  ramparts  of  the  superstitions  of  the 
past,  and  over  all  tloating  the  banner  of  our  Lord 
jesus  Christ. 


VIll 

BARWAi:    AN  OUTSTATION 

"  Who  wus  ihc  t.ilher  of  Jesus?" 
The  speaker,  needless  to  say,  was  a  Moham- 
medan; for  this  is  one  of  their  stock  questions, 
and  a  common  interruption  to  the  tcUin^r  of  the 
Gospel  story.    He  formed  one  o^  a  proup  of  vil- 
lagers gathered  beneath  a  rude  cattie-shed,  some 
seated  on  the  rough-hewn  logs,  stored  there  out 
of  the  sun  and  rain  by  a  neighbouring  bunya, 
some  standing  and  some  squatted  on  the  scat- 
tered sti.iw.     We  had  been  driven  into  this  shelter 
from  our  stand  beneath  the  /»;//-lree  across  the 
wav,  bv  the  pouring  rain;  and  old  Raghu,  who 
was  preaching,  had  been  telling  the  story  of  that 
other  cattle-shed  in  far  off  Bethlehem,  when  the 
stone-mason  interrupted  him. 

"Brother,"  1  interposed,  "what  was  the 
Prophet's  purpose  in  establishing  bis  religion, 
was  it  not  to  put  down  idolatry?" 

"True,  oh  Padri  Sahib,"  answered  the  man, 
squaring  himself  for  an  argument,  "that  was  the 
purpose  of  the  Prophet,  blessed  be  his  name!  " 

114 


Rirwai :    An  Out^rar 


ion 


'     1     N 


liow  lon^  hast  thou  been  iii  this  village?" 

About  till  vf.irs." 

Hast  thou  ever  prea  :hed  against  idolatry  or 


tried  to  lead  the 


people  from  their  sin  ?  ' 


"No,  Padri  Sahib,"  hf  replied,  hesitatinglv,  as 
if  pu/zled  to  see  the  drift  of  the  argument. 


Well,"  i  said,  "  thou  hast  d( 


ne  nothing  ti 


put  down  idolatry  thyself  .irid  iminediatt.ly  we 
Christians  come  to  turn  the  people  from  their 
sins,  instead  ol  helping  thou  dost  oppose  us.  Is 
that  right,  oh  brother  r  " 


The  stone- 
fess  himself  in 


m 


mason  was  honest  enough  to  con- 
■  wrong;  and  when,  a  few  mo- 

ents  later,  we  closed  our  meeting  and  began  to 
•■ell  tract'-,  he  was  the  tirst  purch  i^  ;r. 

It  was  a  day  in  the  beginning  ^.i  the  rams  of 
'Q2,  the  roads  were  heavy  with  mud  and  the  air 
in  the  bazaar  reeking  with  the  fetid  smells  of 
rotting  rubbish.  Raghu  and  I  had  come  down 
to  Barwai,  a  town  in  the  Nerbudda  valley  about 
thirtv-six  miles  from  Mhow,  prospecting  with  a 
view  to  establishing  an  outstation.  I  had  long 
been  in. pressed,  in  fact  since  our  first  district 
tour,  with  the  need  of  some  new  method  to  fol- 
low up  the  preaching  and  deal  with  enquirers. 
In  our  discursive  journeys  we  could  preach  the 
gospel,  but  we  could  not  deepen  impressions  and 


iiT) 


Vilhi'T   Work   in    Iiuli;i 


bring  men  to  open  Loiilossion.  Better  work 
could  be  dune  if  Christian  teachers  were  settled 
in  the  various  centres,  where  the  spirit's  intluence 
had  been  most  manifest,  with  opportunity  of 
meeting  people  from  the  different  villages  every 
two  c  >Tr  '-  -eeks,  instead  of  once  a  year,  and 
of  dcai  vf:  .  lore  personally  with  enquirers.  Such 
places  v.ot'ld  become  centres  of  Christian  life 
and  intluence,  affording  all  within  their  reach  an 
object  lesson  in  Christian  character  and  service, 
an  opportunity  of  regular  meetings  and  especially 
of  hearing  the  gospel  at  their  own  doors  from 
week  to  week. 

Raghu  and  1  spent  the  day  amidst  the  smells  of 
the  ba/aar,  holding  meetings  and  interviewing 
some  of  the  townspeople  about  our  proposal. 
Barwai  was  a  most  suitable  place  for  an  out- 
station,  being  the  chief  town  of  a  district,  a  large 
market-place,  the  seat  ot  an  Aini'ii  and  his  court, 
and  within  easy  reach  of  some  seventy  cr  eighty 

villages. 

As  a  result  of  our  visit  two  of  the  Native 
preachers  came  down  a  few  days  later  to  remain 
a  week  or  two  and  open  the  work.  On  arriving, 
they  rented  a  small  house  on  the  bazaar  road,  at 
a  quiet  corner  of  the  village  and  far  removed 
from    the    temples.     But    no    sooner   had   they 


Barwui  :     An  Outsr^itioii 


i  1 


begun  to  preach  on  the  streets  tlian  a  hue  and 
cry  was  raised  by  the  Brahmins,  and  the  landlord 
persuaded  to  drive  them  out;  nor  were  they  able 
to  procure  another  lodging.  Nothing  was  Ictt 
them  therefore,  but  to  seek  shelter  in  the  s.irj! 
or  native  rest-house,  an  open  tile-roofed  shed, 
and  in  this  case  not  very  clean,  the  resort  of 
every  kind  of  traveller,  includmg  beggar  and 
fakir.  It  was  discouraging,  for,  apart  from  the 
discomfort,  it  gave  them  no  place  to  store  their 
effects,  and  no  suitable  accommodation  for  cook- 
ing their  food;  but  our  men,  thankful  for  even 
this  poor  shelter,  set  themselves  with  true  Chris- 
tian fortitude  to  in.ike  the  best  of  it.  By  payi:ig 
a  lad  a  few  pice  daily  they  were  able  to  lave 
their  effects  guarded  while  they  went  about  tneir 
work  and  at  night  they  cooked  their  food  on  the 
roadside  with  the  crowd.  Every  evening  they 
'  Jd  a  service  among  the  travellers  at  the  rest- 
house.  Al  the  l.rst  meeting  thev  were  attracted 
by  a  young  i^rahmiri,  whose  attention  to  the 
preaching  proclaimed  him  as  specially  interested; 
and  when  at  bedtime,  during  the  singing  of  their 
evening  hvmn.  he  drew  near  to  listen,  they 
called  him  over  and  spoke  to  him.  He  was  a 
Maratha  youth  of  about  twenty  years  of  age,  as- 
sistant to  a  merchant,  w  hum  he  was  accompany- 


ii8 


N'ilhi'Tt.'   Work   in   India 


ing  on  a  journey  to  Maheshwar.  it  appeared  that 
he  had  long  been  a  seeker,  but  had  as  yet  lu-ard 
little  concerning  Christ  or  His  message. 

He  became  almost  at  once  an  enquirer  and 
when,  at  the  end  of  the  week,  I  visited  Barvvai  I 
was  surprised  to  see  his  earnestness  and  sim- 
plicitv.  Satislied  that  the  root  of  the  matter  was 
in  him  I  commended  him  to  the  Christians  for 
further  instruction,  as  long  as  he  should  remain 
with  them  at  the  rest-house.  Meanwhile  our 
men  busied  themselves  visiting  the  mahallas,  or 
districts  of  the  town,  and  surrounding  villages, 
and  becoming  acquainted  with  their  lield.  They 
also  took  every  opportunity  to  pursue  enquiries 
for  a  house  in  which  to  live,  but  till  .ilinost  the 
last  moment  with  no  result.  At  the  end  of  an- 
other week  they  returned  to  Mhow  to  report  on 
their  field  and  make  full  arrangements  for  per- 
manent occupancy,  for  at  last  they  had  got  word 
of  accommodation.  What  was  my  surprise  to 
see  accompanying  them  the  young  Brahmin  en- 
quirer. It  appeared  that  when  his  master  was 
leaving  Barwai  to  go  into  the  interior,  the  servant 
wanted  to  give  up  his  position  and  remain  with 
the  Christians.  As  soon,  however,  as  the  bunya 
knew  the  reason  for  his  request  he  became  very 
angry,  and  though  he  had  no  legal  claim  on  him, 


Baiw, 


An   Out  t.itioii 


119 


absolutely  refused  to  let  hiin  off.  One  day  in 
the  midst  of  pouring  rain  they  started,  the  young 
man  bidding  our  Christians  "good-bye"  with  a 
heavy  heart. 

"  Ikit  I  didn't  seem  to  be  going  the  right  road," 
he  told  me  in  relating  the  story;  "  every  step  of 
the  way  my  feet  kept  dragging  me  backwards, 
and  the  road  grew  heavier  and  heavier.  At  last 
when  we  had  gone  about  fourteen  miles,  1  could 
stand  it  no  longer;  I  left  everything  I  had  in  the 
cart,  and,  turning  round,  fled  as  fast  as  my  feel 
could  carry  me  back  to  Barwai." 

He  had  had  nothing  to  eat  all  day,  the  master's 
anger  venting  itself  in  a  process  of  starvation; 
the  roads  were  heavy  and  muddy  with  rain; 
it  was  late  at  night  and  all  his  possessions 
were  behind  him  ;  and  yet,  nothing  daunted,  he 
fled  back  to  the  story  of  two  passing  strangers. 
"Yes,  I  was  afraid,"  he  replied,  in  answer  to  a 
question,  "but  thnu^h  1  was  very  thirstv,  I  was 
still  more  afraid  to  stop  at  a  village  for  a  drink, 
for  fear  they  would  detain  me." 

About  midnight  our  men  were  awakened  in 
the  SijriU'  by  some  one  calling  them,  and  awoke 
to  find  the  poor  Brahmin  wet,  hungry  and  now 
shivering,  after  his  long  journey.  As  he  had  left 
everything  behind    and    was   s(j   miserable,   our 


120 


X'ilhiire   Work    in    India 


nu-n  wished  immcdi.ilclv  tu  give  liini  something 
to  eat.  They  did  not  ask  him  to  take  their  food, 
as  that  would  have  required  his  breaking  caste, 
but  offered  him  pice  to  go  to  the  bazaar  and  buy 
for  himself.  The  young  man,  however,  hesi- 
tated; he  had  ah' 'dy  taken  a  long  step  towards 
Christianity,  and  he  began  to  say  to  himself,  with 
a  true  Hindu  conception  of  the  immediate  result 
of  a  change  of  faith,  "  If  1  am  going  to  become  a 
Christian  I  must  eat  with  Christians."  It  was  a 
hard  struggle,  for  he  was  a  Brahmin;  the  prej- 
udices of  countless  generations  were  against  it, 
and  every  libre  of  his  nature  must  have  revolted 
at  the;  thought  of  taking  food  from  strange 
hands;  but  while  I:e  waited  silent  prayers  were 
ascending  beside  him  for  help. 

"I  will  eat  _i'OHr  food,"  he  finally  said;  and 
there  and  then  he  abandoned  caste  and  Hindu- 
ism. 

Periiaps  the  first  step  was  the  hardest.  The 
young  man  became  an  earnest  student  of  the 
Word,  for  he  could  read,  and  was  soon  after 
baptised.  His  testimony  before  baptism  was 
very  interesting.  I  had  .-ihown  him  the  dangers 
he  would  encounter  in  becoming  a  Christian, 
the  loss  of  caste,  friends  and  associations,  and 
the  subsequent  hardships  he  would  have  to  en- 


Barwai :     An  Outstatioii 


1 11 


dure,  and  not  least  in  the  matter  of  eariing  his 
bread  as  a  Christian. 

"  Padri  Sahib,"  he  replied,  "the  grain  must 
first  be  pounded  in  the  mortar  before  it  is  fit  to  be 
made  into  bread;  1  am  willing  to  suffer  if  it  is  to 
make  me  a  better  Christian."  On  the  day  of 
baptism,  removing  his  Brahmin  thread  before  the 
assembled  congregation,  he  gave  it  co  me,  for  he 
was  done  with  it  forever. 

Thus  was  begun  our  work  in  Barwai.  After 
many  enquiries  and  disappointments,  our  men 
had  got  track  of  a  house  belonging  to  a  merchant 
friend  in  Mhow;  a  bargain  was  struck,  and  be- 
fore another  week  was  past,  the  two  men  were 
settled  in  their  new  home  and  or.  first  out- 
station  opened.  We  had  many  experiences;  the 
Borahs  or  Mohammedan  merchants  asked  for  a 
school,  even  sending  me  a  numerously  signed 
petition,  and  then  backed  out  of  it  on  account  of 
the  Bible  teaching.  Then  the  poor  people,  who 
were  nut  permitted  to  atteiui  the  native  govern- 
ment school  in  the  bazaar,  preferred  a  similar  re- 
quest, but  were  frightened  out  of  it  by  the 
Brahmins. 

Meanwhile  our  men  gave  most  ot  their  time  to 
preachiny  in  the  bazaars  and  surrounding  villages, 
where,   with    but    few   exceptions,    their   gospel 


122 


Villa-a-   Work    in    India 


message   was  well    received.     Aiimng    the   ex- 
ceptions, however,  was  a  mikiII  village  a  mik'  or 
so  from  Barwai.  in  which,  though   KaLrhu  lu.i 
received  a  fair  hearing  the  lirst  time  he  went,  the 
Brahmin  priest  had  so  influenced  the  villagers, 
that  soon  none  of  them  seemed  willing  to  listen. 
But  Ra-hu  was  not  so  easily  beaten;  taking  his 
sitdra  he  played  and  sang  the  Mujaus  (hymns) 
from  door  to  door.     One  day  he  was  accosted  by 
a    JJioH   or    drum   player,    whose  sympathetic 
attention  he  had  several  times  particularly  con- 
trasted with  the  indifference  of  the  rest  of  the 
village.     "Salaam!     Father,"  said  the  stranger, 
"  1  have  several  times  wished  to  speak  to  thee." 
And  sitting  down  on  a  stone  by  the  roadside,  Jie 
preacher    heard   his  story:— It  turned   cut   that 
some   months   before,   when   returning   fioni   a 
journey  to  the  North,  he  had  purchased  a  tract 
from  one  of  the  colporteurs  on  the  station  plat- 
form at  Neemuch.  whose  contents  he  had  studied 
carefuiiv;  and  ever  since  he  had  been  eager  to 
hear  more  about  the  religion  of  Jesus.     He  had 
several   times  wished   to   speak    to    Kaghu,   but 
feared  the  priest;  however  the  catechisfs  per- 
severance had  conquered.     The  lirst  meeting  led 
to  many  others;  and  the  drum-player  became  a 
constant  visitor  at  the  mission  in  Barwai.     As  he 


Barwai  :     An  Outstatinn 


1-3 


was  educated,  he  spent  much  of  his  time  in 
reading  Christian  books;  and  it  was  ont-  of  these, 
"The  Enquiry  Into  the  True  Reh-ion,  a  com- 
parison of  Christianity  \Mth  the  religions  of 
hidia,  that  seemed  finally  to  clinch  his  doubts 
and  hopes  and  determine  hun  to  come  out  for 
Christ. 

I  usually  visited  Barwai  and  the  other  out- 
stations  once  a  month  to  hold  service  and  Bible- 
class  with  the  Christians  and  enquirers.  Here 
for  the  first  time  I  met  the  Jlioli.  He  was  a  man 
of  middle  age,  tall,  thin,  and  dressed  in  the 
ordinary  costume  of  the  well-to-do  villa:,'er, 
cotton  shirt,  loin-cloth  and  red  turban.  He  was 
not  a  communi'.-ative  man.  but  the  set  features 
of  his  spare  face,  which  were  surrounded  with  a 
thin,  scraggy  beard,  showed  both  thought  and 
determination;  and  though  not  very  eager  to 
question,  he  listened  attentively  to  every  expla- 
nation of  the  Christ  Way.  i  did  not  urge  him  to 
be  baptised;  !  knew  that  some  day,  without  any 
demonstration,  and  in  the  privacy  of  his  own 
heart,  he  would  come  to  a  decision.  I  was  not 
surprised,  therefore,  when  a  week  or  two  j.iter 
he  made  a  journey  to  Mhow  and  asked  for 
baptism.  It  was  hard  to  refuse,  and  he  seemed 
deeply  grieved  when  I  asked  him  to  wait  a  little 


i 


124 


VillaiTc  Work   in   Inciia 


while;  but  again  without  any  demonstration,  he 
went  back  to  his  village  and  to  work,  it  is  one 
of  the  most  difficult  questions  the  missionary  is 
called  on  to  determine,  that  of  readiness  for 
baptism;  the  seal  of  the  kingdom  and  sonship, 
especially  in  these  new  lands,  must  be  kept  un- 
sullied; and  yet  too  much  care  cannot  be 
exercised  lest  he  should  offend  "one  of  these 
little  ones."  in  a  few  weeks  the  dholi  was  back 
again  with  the  same  request;  so,  after  further 
conversation  and  prayer,  and  <  n  the  unanimous 
advice  of  the  nati^'e  brethren,  it  was  decided  he 
should  be  baptised.  He  had  again  to  wait,  how- 
ever, as  I  was  too  ill  for  the  service;  but  these 
trials  gave  me  more  confidence  in  his  position,  as 
I  knew  that  besides  his  expenses  he  was  at  con- 
siderable loss  by  neglecting  his  work.  It  was  a 
solemn  service  and  a  landmark  in  the  histc  'W 
the  work  m  H.irwai,  when  we  received  him  into 
the  (lluirch  of  Christ. 

l-'ew  of  us  perhaps  realise  all  that  it  mcan<  to 
the  conservative  prejudices  of  a  Hindu  home 
when  one  of  its  members,  and  especially  the 
father  and  head  of  the  house,  cuts  his  religious 
moorings,  and,  like  a  ship  putting  out  into  an 
unknown  sea,  breaks  awav  from  caste  and  the 
associations   of    Hinduism   fi)r  the  societv  of   a 


Barw'ii  :     An  Out^rjn'on 


1-5 


strange  people.  To  the  Hindu  every  relationship 
in  life  is  religious,  and  a  change  therefore  of  his 
religious  connections  is  not  a  mere  break  in  the 
even  tenor  of  the  past;  it  is  a  revolution,  a 
catastrophe,  a  sudden  destruction  of  all  the 
sacred  and  social  bonds  that  make  up  life,  both 
here  and  hereafter.  On  the  women  especially, 
to  whom  in  their  social  seclusion  and  religious 
ignorance  tlie  importance  of  these  bonds  is 
intensely  magnified,  the  blow  falls  wit!i  a 
severity  often  more  terrible  than  death.  Many 
a  Hindu  mother  has  dashed  her  head  against  the 
stones  on  the  news  if  the  perversion  of  h-r  son 
from  the  ancient  faith.  Truly  to  many  the  gospel 
brings  not  peace  but  a  sword. 

It  will  be  understood  also  how  readily  this 
sense  of  disappointment  is  changed  into  a  nar- 
row spirit  of  revenge.  The  poor  J//o//  was  not 
only  shunned  by  the  villagers  but  abhorred  d 
despised  by  his  wife.  She  revolted  from  his 
change  of  faith  as  something  recklessly  sinful, 
lie  might  believe  what  he  would,  but  to  break 
caste  and  connect  himself  with  an  alien  religion 
was  not  only  wrong,  it  was  imbecile.  She  re- 
fused to  cook  for  him  or  allow  him  to  eat  in  the 
same  part  of  the  house  as  the  family,  she  lashed 
him  bitterly  with  her  reproaches,  and  did  every- 


\l()  N'illa^o    Wwik    in    Imlia 

thing  to  make  his  life  miserable.     He  not  only 
bore  all  bravely,  but  openly  testified  to  his  faith 
in  Christ,  and,  as  he  went  about  from  village  to 
village  in  pursuit  of  his  callmg.  quietly  taught  the 
Gospel  story.      He  was  a  man  of  considerable 
influence  among  his  caste  people,  and  gradually 
they  have  all  become  permeated  with  the  Christ 
message,  many  have  become  delinitely  interested. 
;,nu  several  have  been  led  to  confess  Christ  in 
baptism,  from  among  whom  has  come  one  of 
the  brightest  of  our  young  preachers.     Thus  the 
very   unity  and  corporate   spirit  which   are  the 
strength  of  the  caste  system,  cooperate  at  times 
,n  the  furtherance  of  the  gospel.     Though  neither 
the  character  nor  the  history  of  Christianity  leads 
us  to  expect  cataclysmic  or  sectional  additions  to 
its  ranks,  y^:  when  the  first  converts  are  caste 
leaders,  as  happened  with  these  Jliolis,  the  gos- 
pel is  given  a  mighty  lever  for  its  propagation. 

For  some  time,  while  we  had  a  medical  mis- 
sionary in  Mhow,  a  dispensary  was  opened  in 
Barwai  under  the  charge  of  an  English  lady- 
missionarv,  who  did  much  valuable  service 
especially  among  the  women  and  children. 
Spite  of  this  combination  of  Christianising  forces 
however,  manv  of  the  Brahmin  officials  remained 
unfnendlv.      Ihere  was  great  rejoi.mg  when  the 


Barwai  :     An   Outstation 


house  in  wliich  our  Christian  helpers  were  living 
was  burned  down.  "This,"  said  they,  "will 
drive  the  Christians  out,  for  they  will  not  be  able 
to  get  anothei  house."  Quietly  I  entered  into 
negotiations  for  the  purchase  of  a  piece  of  huij 
and  the  Innldiii','  ot  a  house.  No  objection  was 
made  at  the  time  to  my  purchase,  which,  accord- 
ing to  the  custom  of  tl--  3tato,  I  registered  in  fho 
Amin's  court,  receiving  a  stamped  receipt  fur  the 
deed,  and  in  a  few  days  the  foundations  u'cre 
begun.  .\\.  the  end  of  the  month  required  for 
registration,  however,  I  vwis  told  th.it  the  Holkar 
authorities  had  refused  to  sanction  the  s.ile  ;  and 
though  I  had  many  interviews  with  the  Prime 
Minister  1  could  get  no  other  reply  than  that  the 
Maharaja  had  determined  not  to  allow  Europeans 
to  obtain  land  within  his  state.  My  rights  as  a 
British  subject,  the  payment  <^f  the  monev  in  the 
presence  of  an  official,  and  the  registration  of  the 
deed  in  'he  Aiiiiu's  court  would.  1  w.is  led  to 
believe,  have  procured  a  settlement  in  the  Mis- 
sion's favour  by  an  appeal  to  the  British  authori- 
ties. This  we  have  persistently  refused  to  do; 
while  I  have  ever  found  the  British  authorities  in 
India  most  sympathetic  towards  our  work,  an 
appeal  to  them  is  of  the  nature  of  secular  force; 
and  tlie  cause  of  Christ  .uid  Mis  gospel  of  peace 


128 


\"ill.ii:c   Work   in   India 


is  not  to  be  furthered  by  such  a  means.  We 
have  been  waiting,'  live  years  for  that  piece  of 
land  and  we  can  atlurd  to  wail ;  in  God's  time 
we  will  get  it. 

With  such  sentiments  on  the  part  of  those  in 
authority,  it  was  not  likely  the  Christians  in  the 
district  would  escape  persecution.  One  young 
man  was  imprisoned  in  Barwai  un  some 
trumped-up  charge;  and,  because  he  c^  .fessed 
himself  a  Christian,  was  most  cruelly  ill-used  by 
the  native  police.  They  tied  him  with  cords  m 
such  a  way  as  to  make  every  movement  one  of 
pain,  and  then  compelled  him  to  try  and  walk 
for  their  sport.  The  officials  re.'ised  even  to  see 
one  of  our  missionaries,  when  he  called  to  ask 
the  nature  of  the  charge  and  the  reason  of  the 
cruel  treatment.  .Again  I  appealed  to  the  Prime 
Minister  of  the  .Maharaja,  asking  simply  that 
justice  be  done  and  the  man  granted  a  fair  trial. 
Tills  time  1  was  not  nnlv  most  cordially  received. 
though  the  Minister  was  so  ill  he  was  compelled 
to  receive  me  lying  in  bed,  but  the  matter  was 
set  right,  and  later  a  more  friendiv  official  placed 
in  charge  of  the  district. 

No  violent  and  coercive  persecution  of  the 
Christians,  such  as  has  been  witnessed  lately  in 
China,  would  be  possible  in  India;  but  the  con- 


Barw.u  :     An  Outstation 


129 


tinued  petty  and  social  persecution  and  the  often 
legalised  invasion  of  their  rights  are  systematic- 
ally pursued.     The  former  is  to  be  seen  in  the 
outcasting  of  the  convert,  his  rejection  by  family 
and  friends,  the  loss  of  trade  and  custom  and  the 
general  disabilities  in  procuring  a  maintenance. 
The  latter  is  mure  manifest  in  Native  states  ;  in 
British  India  the  property  rights  of  the  convert 
are  protected  by  statute,  but  all  attempts  hitherto 
to  obtain  such    protection  in  Native  states  have 
proved   unavailing.     In    the    Mysore   State,    for 
instance,  "a  Hindu  became  a  Christian,  and  after 
baptism  his  \vi*     deserted  him,  taking  with  her 
his  children.     He  sued  for  recovery  of  the  chil- 
dren, but  was  adjudged  to  have  lost  his  right  of 
guardianship."     Similarly   in   Travancore    State, 
when   two   converts   sought   to   maintain    their 
right  of  maintenance  out  of  the  familv  property, 
it  was  held  by  a  majority  of  the  judges  on  the 
full  bench  that  they  had  no  right  whatever  to  re- 
tain ev'en  the  property  given  them  for  mainte- 
nance when  they  were  Hindus.     Petitions  have 
been  made  by  the  missionaries  to  the  rulers  of 
both  Travancore  and  Mysore  to  have  legislation 
provided  for  the  continuance  to  a  convert  of  his 
rights,   but  without  result,  and.  strange  to  sav. 
seemingly  without  even   the   sympathy   ot    the 


1)0 


\'ill;i<:c    Work    in    Imliu 


British  Government.  The  tact  that  for  tlfty  years 
such  legisiation  as  is  asked  for  has  been  in  force 
in  British  India  and  has  proved  benelidal,  is  swf- 
licient  answer  vj  the  objection  that  it  will  inter- 
fere seriously  with  the  sujial  fabric  of  Hinduism. 

Spite  of  these  and  kindred  disabilities,  the 
work  in  oar  outstations  and  among  the  villages 
has  gone  steadily  on,  as  far  as  the  limitations  of 
our  stiff  would  permit.  Though  they  add  to 
the  difficulties  of  work  in  native  states  and  re- 
tard especiallv  open  confession,  such  hindrances 
are  not  without  their  value  as  sifting  agencies. 
Again  we  arc  persuaded  that  the  cause  of  (Christ 
is  not  to  be  fuitliLred  by  an  appeal  to  the  secular 
arm.  These  rights  will  yet  be  established;  signs 
are  not  wanting  that  the  native  conscience  is 
being  awal^ened  to  the  present  injustice,  and 
thai  legisLition  will  be  freely  offered  by  the  Na- 
tive St.ites  themselves  to  remove  the  disabilities 
under  which  the  convert  suffers. 

Our  plan  (T  work  in  the  development  of  the 
outstations  has  been:  dailv  prcching  of  the 
Gospel  in  the  surrounding  villages  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  in  the  luahallas  and  bazaars  of  the  town 
in  the  e\ening.  Regular  services,  including  a 
Sunday-scho.'l,  ha\e  been  conducted  every  .Sun- 
day, and  during   "ur  monthly  visits  we  usually 


Barwai :    An   'Jutstation 


»3» 


hf)IJ    inagic-l.iiitcrn    me<.-tings    m    tiie    cveiuii^fs. 
The  aim  which  has  dominated  tlic  u  hoh-  devel- 
opment ot  this  work  has  been  to  brini^  the  gds- 
pel  not  only  within   reach  of  every  individual, 
but  in  such  an  inteihgeiit  and  persistent  way  tliat 
he  may  be  able  to  accept  it.     iVrhaps  the  most 
memorable  meetings  ot  all,  in  these  outstations, 
l-.a\  e  been  when  in  the  big  gospel  tent,  or  within 
the   mission   house,    shut    in   from    the   curious 
crowd,  the  little  group  of  Christians  have  gath- 
ered reverently  round  the  Lord's  Table  and  par- 
taken together  of  the  bread  and  wine  in  remem- 
brance of  Him.     There  were  no  seats,  the  table 
was  a  piece  of  camp  furnishing,  the  communion 
service  from  the  same,  but  God  was  there;  and 
that  blessed  spirit  of  fellowship  with  these  first- 
lings of  the  great  Indian  church  in  that  event,  be- 
fore which  both   East  and  West  stand  with  the 
same  wondering  love  and  awe,   has  numbered 
tliem  among  the  marked   e.xperiences  of  a  mis- 
sionarv  career.     Such  services  have  been  epoch 
making,  they  seemed  to  speak  to  us  ot  a  glori- 
ous future,  when  from  i  thousand  churches  in 
this    valley   of   Nimar  the   solemn    communiun 
hymn  would   rise  to  the  praise  of  Him  whose 
death  had  won  this  victorw 

1  he  work  in  Barwai  has  received  a  temporary 


'3^ 


\'illa;ic   Work   in    India 


check  and  Iho  st>:t!.'!i  been  i-l'iU'd  fnr  :i  season, 
chiefly  because  of  the  sinallness  ni  ouv  staff. 
But  we  look  loiwarJ  to  the  day  when  not  only 
the  foundations,  n-Iuch  now  lie  waiting  at  the 
edge  of  the  village  for  the  Maharaja's  sanction, 
will  bear  their  destined  buildin.N.  but  upon  the 
broader  and  mure  spiritual  foundations  laid  ifi 
the  hearts  of  inanv  of  the  surrounding  villager's, 
will  arise  a  noble  temple  to  the  eternal  praise  of 
our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ. 


IX 


H(>\V  \\1-.  l)l,(i  'IHK  WF.LL 

Heat!  releiule.ss.  pitiless  heat!  Down  the 
great  hill.-idcs,  that  tiunted  the  villa.u^e.  the 
mi,L,'htv  heat  waves  rulleJ,  uatheruii^'  intensity 
on  the  way.  til'  thev  swept  in  uiie  tierce  tluoJ 
into  the  vallev  beneath,  shrivelling  the  leaves, 
licking  up  the  last  sap  from  the  grass  roots, 
baking  the  earth  till  its  crust  warped,  and  drving 
up  tanl-s  and  ponds.  There  was  no  escape  trom 
It;  sha  le  Vsas  not  shelter,  the  verv  atmosphere 
was  on  tire.  It  was  as  though  the  heavens  had 
melted  and  flooded  the  earth:  one  could  feel  its 
waves  lapping  igainst  t.ice  and  neck  as  it  tlowed 
up  over  the  narrow  verandah  ,uid  in  at  the  Knv 
door  till  the  little  native  house  was  full,  and  we 
sat  gasping  for  a  cool  breath.  Added  to  this  the 
tierce  sun  rays  pierced  the  low  roof,  till  even  be- 
neath the  sun  helmet  and  well-soaked  cloths  we 
could  feel  the  slow  creeping  tension  of  the  nerves 
that  gathered  to  the  mtensitv  of  bursting. 

We  h'ld  come  down  the  night  iH'fore  to  this 
little  town  beneath   the  mountains,  prospecting 

U3 


I  ■ 
{ 


•34 


V^illu'ic   Work   in   Inilia 


for  a  new  outstation.  After  the  l.iiu!  trouble  at 
Barwai,  we  felt  that  it  wuuld  be  unwise  to  rely 
wholly  on  the  uncertainty  of  its  occupancy,  as 
the  only  basis  of  operation  in  the  eastern  part  of 
the  valley;  and  as  another  and  just  as  important 
a  group  of  villages  could  better  be  reached  from 
a  point  farther  west,  we  set  about  to  look  for  a 
new  (jutstation  in  a  centre  where,  if  possible, 
the  land  dilli.ulty  would  not  be  so  prominent. 
Here  and  theie  throughout  the  Native  States  of 
(x-ntial  irid'  I,  the  Imperial  authorities  have  re- 
tained contrul  over  small  sections  of  territory  to 
serve  as  places  of  residence  for  their  own  ofti- 
cials.  In  une  of  these,  Manpur,  al'ovc  the  moun- 
tains, wj  jiad  already  procured  land  and  estab- 
lish.d  our  second  outstation;  and  it  was  in  an- 
other, Bagode,  where  the  central  government 
had  at  least  temporary  control,  we  were  at  pres- 
ent prospecting  with  a  view  to  i  third  centre. 

It  was  the  middle  of  the  hot  weather,  so  we 
had  [ra\-elled  down  the  night  befor'^  breaking 
our  journey  at  a  way.side  \illage.  where  we  tried 
to  snatch  a  few  hours'  sleep,  stretched  out  on  the 
tonga  cushions,  with  our  feet  dangling  over  the 
dashboard,  llie  Patcl  of  the  village  would  have 
pressed  upon  us  the  use  of  his  cot,  but  sad  ex- 
perience has  taught  us  that  the  ordinary  native 


How   W,'   I)u-  The  Well         135 


bcJ  hud  alrcadv  ii 


journuv;  tlic  ruuJ  had 


many  Dccupantb  to  give  an 
0111.     It    was    an    awful 


once  been  macadamise 


d. 


but  fur  many  years  had  not  been  mended,  so 
that  with  broken  bridges  and  boulder-strewn 
roadbed,  it  was  now  far  wurse  than  the  un- 
[M'uken  fields;  then  the  licat,  even  at  night,  was 
intense,  and  the  line  dust  pungent  and  pene- 
trating:. 


We  found  the  Kdin.uJ.1r  of  tlie  district. 


an 


aged  Brahmin,  at  Parlia.     He  had  given  us  a  cordiil 
welcoiiie,    arranged   for  our  entertainment   in  a 

during   the 


native 


h 


ouse. 


ind 


accompanie 


us 


ear 


a  no 


rlier  part  of  the  d.iy  on  .i  t'^ur  of  inspection 

neiglibuuring    villages, 
a  is  the  centre  o\   a  large  group  of  villages 


ut     the     twwn     an 


>elow    LJie    mountains. 


To   the    riuht   ri 


ses    o 


Id 


Tumbai,  and  .iwav  to  the  left  Jam.  scarred  on  one 


side  by  the  famous   but   now 


ru 


ined 


roauw 


^y. 


that 


was  once  tlie  m.iin  ;i;i.rv  of  trallic  between 


.M, 


ilwa  and  Nimar.     Right  above  is  the  famous 


giant  gatewav,  through  which  the  ro.id  de- 
bouches on  to  the  pl.iins  abf)\  e.  To  the  south  is 
Kasbi,  a  town  of  no  little  importance  in  Holkar 
territory,  and  beyond  Maheshwar  and  the  Ner- 
budda.  As  our  horses  were  used  up  we  were 
forced  to  make  our  tour  on  foot,  so  it  had  been  a 


'3^> 


VilUiirc   Work  in   Intiia 


hard  morning's  work;  and  as  we  were  tired  with 
the  previous  night's  journey  it  was  little  wonder 
we  felt  the  blinding,  dessicating  heat,  and  re- 
joiced when  the  cooler  shades  of  evening  came 
uii,  and  we  were  permitted  to  get  away  from 
this  furnate  into  the  more  tempered  atmosphere 
of  the  plains  above. 

As  a  result  of  our  visit,  Raghu  and  his  family 
moved  down,  as  soon  as  the  weather  moderated, 
tri  begin  work  in  Parlia  and  the  surrounding  dis- 
trict. But  ue  met  v\ith  the  same  ditiiculty  here 
as  in  Barwai;  the  Mohammedan,  who  rented  us 
his  house,  was  soon  forced  by  the  Brahmins  and 
bunvas  to  order  the  Christians  out:  and  again 
they  had  no  choice  of  quarters  but  the  rest-house, 
fortunately  in  this  case  a  cleaner  and  quieter 
place,  in  whicii  our  Christian  people  made  their 
home  for  se\eral  months.  The  ne.xt  difficulty 
w.is  with  their  food;  the  merchants  refused  to 
sell  them  grain,  and  they  were  obliged  to  pro- 
cure it  from  a  dist.int  market-place.  Then  the 
wells  were  shut  on  them  and  they  were  driven 
to  the  neighbouring  river  for  their  water,  hven 
the  relief  of  the  rest-house  was  only  temporary. 
The  following  December,  when  I  was  camping 
in  a  village  some  tifteen  miles  awav,  Raghu  came 
over  one  d.ix  in  a  state  of  great  e.xcitement,  to 


How  \Vi    Du>'  The  Wei 


«37 


tt-'ll  ine  tlu  villai;cts  had  held  a  meeting  and  de- 
cidcd  the  Christians  should  not  remain.  1  im- 
mediately went  over  to  see  the  Kdmasddr,  who 
of  course  had  no  part  in  the  decision  of  the 
Brahmins,  and  who.  I  had  reason  to  believe,  was 
not  ill  disposed.  He  pointed  out  to  me  the  dif- 
ficulties in  the  way  of  the  Christians  procuring 
accommodation,  and  how  he  had  been  glad  to 
permit  them  to  use  the  rest-hoi.se  for  so  long;  so 
after  talking  matters  over.  I  told  him  that,  as  the 
gospel  had  come  to  the  valley  to  stay,  and  we 
could  not  allow  ourselves  to  be  driven  away  by  a 
clique,  we  would  buv  land  and  build  a  house  for 
ourselves.  It  was  Saturday  and  1  had  only  a 
short  time  to  spare  before  it  would  be  necessary 
for  me  to  start  for  Mhow,  to  take  the  Sunday 
services  for  the  troops.  To  have  left  the  pur- 
chase till  Monday  would  hav'e  given  the  Brah- 
mins opportunity  to  frame  some  excuse  for  pre- 
venting it.  Within  two  hours  we  had  chosen  a 
suitable  site,  the  deeds  were  drawn  up,  and  the 
land  ours. 

The  hot  weather  was  well  on,  however,  be- 
fore our  little  buildings  were  completed,  and  for 
weeks  Mr.  Drew  had  to  stand  out  in  that  torrid 
sun  bath  to  superintend  the  rude  villagers  at 
their  work,  rearing  the  brick  and    mud  walls. 


ii 


i^.S 


N'illa'ic   \Vt)rk    in    India 


shaping  the  ioultIi  din  us  .iikI  biiidinLC  nn  the  tiled 
roof.  Tlu'  luuisi-  h.iJ  liaidlv  lu'cn  completed 
when  a  new  Jittkulty  arose.  One  day  Kagliu 
came  up  to  Mhow  with  that  same  woebegone 
expression  and  lonk  of  final  disappointment  that 
lie  h.id  worn  when  the  Brahmins  decided  to 
drive  him  out.  He  used  to  call  mc\\\<~  ina-bap 
(motlier  and  fathei)  though  he  was  more  than 
old  enough  to  be  my  father,  but  '  fear  he  had 
little  hope  (if  mv  solving  this  new  uifticulty. 

"Ham  hwi  Laai,  Sahib?"  (What  can  we 
d(iri  and  tears  of  discouragement  tilled  the  old 
man's  eyes,  "the  river  is  dried  up  and  the 
Brahmins  refuse  us  the  use  of  the  village  wells." 
It  appealed  that  the  excuse  had  been  given  that 
the  Christians'  vessels  would  destroy  the  vil- 
lagers' caste.  "But.  Sahib  Ji,"  said  Raghu, 
'■  this  is  not  the  true  reason.  Many  a  time  have 
1  drunk  water  ;:t  the  village  wells,  and  never 
been  refused  till  thev  'e.rned  1  was  a  Christian. 
Whv,  to-dav.  Sahib,  they  wouldn't  give  me  a 
drink  the  wliole  wav  in  from  Parlia;  1  wasn't 
able  even  to  wet  my  lips." 

And  1  thought  of  the  terrible  road  beneath  the 
mountains,  of  walking  m  the  pungent  dust  over 
those  rough  stones;  1  thought  of  the  blinding, 
smothering  heat  of  that  midsummer  day,  when 


How  We  Du-r  The  \Vi 


'59 


we  broiled  in  the  liquid  atmosphere  of  that 
village  beneath  the  baked  hillsides.  Of  all  the 
agonies  the  human  system  is  called  on  to  endure, 
perhaps  none  is  so  terrible  as  that  of  thirst:  the 
scorching  heat,  the  dry,  baked  skin,  the  pareiied 
mouth,  drawn  till  it  fails  to  speak,  the  cracked 
lips,  the  glaring,  haunted  eyes;  well  may  you 
who  have  never  known  the  agonies  of  thirst, 
have  pity  for  the  dwellers  on  India's  plains  when 
the  skies  are  brass  and  the  breasts  of  mother 
earth  are  drv. 

I  knew  Raghu's  contention  to  be  correct, 
and  that  the  closing  of  the  wells  was  only  one  of 
the  special  persecutions  by  which  the  villagers 
visited  their  spite  on  those  who  became  Chris- 
tians. We  had  already  experienced  similar 
trouble  in  another  village,  the  Christians  being 
refused  permission  to  draw  water,  even  from  the 
wells  they  had  used  before  conversion;  yes  and 
even  from  those  used  bv  the  Mohammedans, 
who  have  no  caste.  But  in  that  case  the  British 
officials  intervened  of  their  own  accord.  I  could 
have  appealed  to  the  officials  in  the  case  of 
Parlia  also,  but  the  feeling  had  run  so  high  that  I 
determined,  if  possible,  to  avoid  their  interfer- 
ence. We  laid  the  matter  before  God,  and  it 
was  decided  to  trv  for  water'  on  our  own  little 


140 


N'llhmt'   Work   in   India 


piece  of  ground,  as.  if  we  could  have  a  well  of 
our  own.  the  question  of  water  would  be  for- 
ever settled;  and  the  Christians  undertook  to  get 
the  work  done  for  the  limited  means  at  our  dis- 
posal, by  contributing  as  much  as  possible  of  the 
labour  themselves. 

The  excavation  of  a  well  in  this  land  of  con- 
tinual sunshine  and   terrible  thirst   is  not  only  a 
work  of  considerable  expense,  as  being  more  of 
the  nature  of  a  cistern  it  must  be  both  wide  and 
deep,  but  also  a  source  of  great  virtue,  and  is 
usually  initiated  with  much  ceremony.    It  created 
no    little   talk,    therefore,    among   Mie   villagers, 
when  It  became  known  what  the  Christians  were 
intending  to  do.     It  would  be  wrong  to  say  that 
they  were  at  heart  opposed  to  our  undertaking, 
for  the  natives  of  India  look  upon  the  man  who 
digs  a  well  as  a  public  benefactor,  whatever  his 
religious   persuasion;    but   they    were   certainly 
verv  skeptical  of  the  result. 

The  piece  of  land  we  had  purchased  was  a 
bare,  narrow  strip,  not  more  than  thirty  yards 
wide,  at  one  side  of  the  village;  and  the  Chris- 
tains'  houses,  together  with  a  room  for  the  ac- 
commodation of  the  missionary,  had  been  built 
towards  the  rear  end,  being  the  highest  part  of 
the   compound.     Beyond  these  again  were  the 


Hou    \Vc    I)u-   Tlu;    \V(  11 


I  ' 


I 


houses  of  the  Cliainars  atvj  low-caste  people. 
The  njtural  place  for  the  well,  therefore,  in  the 
opinion  of  the  villagers,  both  because  of  its 
depth  and  its  distance  from  offensive  nei-;hbours, 
would  have  been  in  the  h-w  ground  at  tlie  front 
f)f  the  lot.  But  after  praver  for  guidance  and 
deliberation  among  the  Christians,  it  was  decided 
to  dig  the  well  in  the  higher  end  of  the  com- 
pound behind  the  houses. 

Without    any   i 
prayer,   the   tools 


;eremony  beyond  this  simple 
were  bought  and  the  work 
<o  sooner,  however,  were  the  first 
few  clods  removed,  than  almost  the  whole 
village   flocked   over  the   thorn    hedge   into  the 


begut 


compound    to    see    and   criticise. 


The   vill, 


ige 


people  are  very  voluble,  and  there  was  no  lack 
of  spokesmen. 

"Yahanpjf  hvd  hota  liai  ?"  (\A'hat  is  going 
on  here  ?),  several  began  to  ask,  as  they  crowded 
round  the  workers. 

"  Kudu  I- J  lit  J  hai"  (We  are  digging  a  well), 
the  Christians  replied,  without  ceasing  their  work. 


But 


such  a  well  digging  had  never  been  heard 


of  in  the  village  before.     The  idea  of 
to    dig   a    well    without    t 


attempting 


le    usual    ceremonies, 


seemed  to  them  not  only  preposterous  but  sacri- 
legious.    There  was  much  talk  and  a  good  deal 


n 


14^ 


N'llh"-*-   Woik    III    liiilM 


of  gesticulation  amnnp  the  crowd  t^i  n  few  min- 
utes, and  then  the  ciilicisins  bc-jian; 

"But  ye  have  not  consulted  the  pundits,"  ob- 
jected one  old  wiseacre  with  toothless  jaws; 
"Nor  called  m  the  priests."  added  a  hanger-on 
.it  the  temple.  "  Yc  have  made  no  offerings  to 
the  gods,"  sneered  a  young  man,  a  clerk  in  the 
k.ulmlni.  in  convmcing  tones;  •■  Nor  feasteu  ihe 
Brahmins."  objected  another.  And  so  the  stream 
of  criticisms,  taunts  and  jeers  rolled  on,  ending 
in  the  final  assurance,  v/hich  was  evidently  the 
judgment   of    the    crowd,    ■■Kn.hli   pjnt   luiliiii 

}iiile,i^J.  biikiil!  htnlih  luil'm  mihy^i-"     (You  will 

get  no  uMter,  .ibsolutely  none.) 

•■  But  we  h.ive  prayed  to  God  who  made  the 

water."  answered  the  Chri>tian<,    "and  He  will 

give  it  :o  us." 

"W'.ih!"  thev  replied,  in  a  tone  which  meant 
a  good  deal  more  tluin  it  said.  And  as  if  to  con- 
vince them  that  any  God  the  Christians  might 
believe  in  did  not  know  much,  one  of  the  Brah- 
mins, who  had  been  prominent  in  the  opposition, 
added  "  YjIijii  p^^r  pdvi  nahin  liai"  (There  is 
no  water  here),  '■  U'ahjn  to  pdni  ha  jjf;.ah  hat" 
(There  is  the  place  for  water),  pointing  to  the 
lower  end  o\  the  compound. 

"But  we  have  asked  (jod  .ibuut  the  place,  and 


How    We    Du-   Thr    Wrll 


H3 


we  believe  this  is  where  He  wants  us  to  dig. 
/4//r  pjni  yiUiir  milci^d,"  (We  wiii  surely  get 
water),  answered  the  Christians  with  much 
earnestness. 

At  whiLh,  with  a  loud  chorus  of  '  Wall! 
W.ihl"  and  much  shrug<fing  of  the  shoulders, 
the  crowd  turned  disgusted  awav. 

There  wa ;  no  red  obstruction  placed  in  the 
wav  of  the  unrk.  for  even  the  Brahmins  had  too 
m  ich  reverence  ff)r  the  digging  of  a  well  to  at- 
tempt tliat.  iJLit  d. IV  after  dav,  as  the  excavation 
\>-ent  on,  the  pennle  would  come  to  the  side  of 
the  well,  and.  I- Hiking  down  at  the  busy  toilers, 
pour  out,  with  smirking  assurance,  the  same 
questions  and  the  s.uik-  expressions  of  contempt. 
On  the  sec'Mid  or  third  day,  when  the  broad  hole, 
some  twelve  or  fourteen  feet  in  diameter,  was 
beginning  to  get  well  through  the  upper  soil,  a 
shrewd  looking  farmer,  who,  with  a  companion 
was  watching  operation.,,  remarked  in  no  very 
complimentarv  tcrma,  -'NAdAu  !o^!  yah  to  pliat- 
f.ir  ka  ;j',\i/i  lua',  is  vicn  pAui  uahin  luii."  (The 
fools!  thisisastonv  place,  there  is  n(->  water h.'^e.) 

And  sure  enough,  as  if  to  further  tiv  their  laith, 
our  people  soon  struck  rock,  much  to  the  gratifi- 
cation of  the  evil  prophets.  But  h  turned  oi't  to 
be   soft    rock,   readily  c.xc.ivatcd    with  pick  and 


144  Village  Work   in   Indiii 

shovel,  and,  contrary  to  the  usual  nature  of 
morum  soil,  remained  soft  most  of  the  way 
down.  On  this  being  pointed  out.  the  villagers 
had  onlv  the  same  assurance  "  Yah  to  lioj^A.  Irian 
pail!  iidlifn  ;;/7/(-;'./."  (That  may  be  so,  but  still 
you  will  pet  i.o  water,;  And  it  looked  as  though 
the  villagers  were  right,  as  day  after  day  our  men 
wrought  awav  at  the  stone,  and  still  no  moisture 
appeared.  "  U\ili  '  anr  kwi  ?  "  (  What  did  vou 
expect  .=■;  thev  a^ked,  "  Kns/Jn  lo:;  Ihu"  (  Iht-v 
are  Christians):  and  thev  used  a  word  which  has 
been  invented  bv  the  Hindus  to  e.xpress  iheir  un- 
feigned contempt  for  the  foreign  religion. 

But  the  men  toiled  on  in  faith,  praying  everv 
day  that  God  would  give  them  not  only  the 
water  thev  so  urgentiv  needed,  but  grace  to  bear 
with  the  taunt'^  ot  the  villagers.  I'or  these  simple 
Christians  believed  not  onlv  that  Cod  was  with 
them,  but  that  He  h.id  chosen  the  very  .site  on 
v.-liich  thev  were  diiiuing.  and  that  therefore 
th(  V  were  bound  to  succeed.  Though  the  gibes 
of  the  Villagers  were  hard  to  bear,  thev  could  not 
control  the  water.  And  gradually  the  people 
grew  tired  of  gibes  which  had  no  effect,  and  our 
Christians  were  left  U   their  digging  in  peace. 

Rut  it  was  slow  work:  the  soil,  thougl  it 
w\fht  have  been  worse,  was  snH  rock:  the  pick 


Hov.    Wc-   Du-  Tiir   Wei 


145 


: 


points  had  to  be  renuiJe  daily;  and  now  that 
they  were  too  d.'ep  for  t!ie  coolies  to  travel  up 
the  wiiiJini,^  pathway  witli  the  refuse  on  their 
heads,  it  had  h>  be  hoisted  up  toilsomely  a  basket- 
ful at  a  time,  by  means  of  the  well  rope.  It  was 
hot  weather  and  of  course  there  was  no  super- 
ficial moisturi'  to  deceive  them,  and  they  had 
been  digging  now  for  several  weeks  without  any 
signs  of  vviter  from  beneath.  Hvery  day  they 
were  getting  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  great  trap 
bed  which  underlies  the  whole  soil  of  >'  Wwa 
and  Nimar;  this  reached  without  finding  v  ^.er, 
the!    hopes  would  be  at  an  end. 

As   the    hole    grew   deeper   and   deeper,    the 
prayers  grew  more  earnest  and  frequent.     It  was 
now  not  merely  a  question  of  getting  water,  to 
then-i  the  very  God  of  the  Christians  was  assailed 
and  His  faithfulness  at  stake.     The  men  never 
seemed  to  tire;    the  rest   hour   wis  shortened, 
even  the  time  for  meals  was  grudged  from  the 
well.    The  great  heat,  the  uniiMia;  labour,  the  un- 
frieiidliiicss  of  the  villagers  ;il!  u  ere  forgotten  in 
the  e.xcitement  of  expectancy.     Hven  the  women 
gave    a    hand    and    helped    with    the    baskets. 
iJeeper,  still  deeper,   yet  how    slowlv    the    hole 
crept    downwards;    they    were    stripped    \o   the 
waist,    and    the   sweat  was    rolling   dovs'n  their 


xj^Ci 


Villa-e   Work   in    Incli;i 


sides;  the  rock  was  growing  harder  and  the 
great  blocks  of  inorum  more  diffkult  to  dislodge: 
and  yet  a^  they  looked  round  upon  the  uneven 
well-botloin,  torn  into  u.de  crevues  and  ragged 
ridges,  onlv  the  h.nd  drv  stun,-  appeared.  But 
suddenly  Kaului,  dropping  the  basket  he  was 
loading,  rushed  to  the  side  of  the  well  and  began 
to  L-.xamine  earefullv  the  bottom  of  a  great  slab 

of  stone. 

••See,"  Raghu  exehiimcd  excitedly,  holding  up 
his  apparently  moistened  hand,  '•isn't  this 
water?  Miro.'"  (Sirikel)  he  shouted  to  the 
man  with  the  pick;  but  without  waiting  for  him 
to  obey,  sei/ed  the  implement  himself,  and  with 
a  mighty  blow  and  a  still  mightier  upheaval,  tore 
away  the  face  of  the  slab. 

••Again!"  shouted  the  three  excited  men,  as 
the  broken  st(Mie  revealed  suie  signs  oi  moisture 
on  tlie  soft  rock  beneath;  and  again  the  pick 
sank  deep  into  the  damp  morum.  And  then  as 
the  old  man  tore  it  awav.  the  water  bubbled  out, 
trickling  m  a  discoloured  stream  into  the  crevices 

beneath. 

"  Sluhisl! .'"  •■Bjini/  d.-hchlhi!"  the  shout 
o\  joy  broke  in  varied  exclamations  from  their 
lips;  onlv  however  to  be  immediately  checked, 
as   they   saw    the    hole   quickly  widen    and  the 


How   We  Du-  'I'lie   Well         147 

stream  of  wate:-  grow  clearer  and  increase. 
It  seemed  to  them  as  though  a  subterranean 
reservoir  must  have  been  stuck;  and  for  a  mo- 
ment or  two  the  instinct  of  self-preservation 
occupied  thei,  whole  attention:  quickly  the  men 
were  drawn  np  \n  the  basket,  the  last  tying  the 
tools  to  a  roi'e.  ere  with  nervous  haste,  he 
scrambled  out  of  the  water,  now  fast  approach- 
ing his  knees;  and  they  were  barely  out  of  the 
well  before  the  place  where  they  had  been  work- 
ing was  tilled  with  water. 

Down  on  their  knees  they  dropped  in  a  brief 
prayer   of  thanksgiving;    and    then,    could   you 
blame  them  ?  a  feeling  of  exult.it^   n  and  triumph 
burst  up  in  their  hearts,  and,   rushing  out  into 
the  village  street,  past  the  bunya  shops  and  on  to 
the  kachahri    of  the  KdiuasJJr  they   shouted, 
"  PJiii  mil  ojva  >    pj,;j  ,nil  iijvd!  -  (We've  got 
v\'ater!     We've  got  water!)     The  villagers  would 
not  believe   it  till,   hurrving  out   of  shops   and 
houses,  they  rushed  to  the  side  of  the  well  and 
saw  the  fast  increasing  water.     It   would  have 
been  difficult  perhaps  to  analyse  their  thoughts; 
a  feeling  of  revulsion  seemed  to  till  the  hearts  of 
many,  and  more  than  one  exclaimed  "  Sach  hai, 
pr.iiitoiuil  ^avd!"   (It's  true,  they've  got  water!) 
And  probably  in  the  mind  of  not  a  few  the  con- 


148 


Vill;i"-c   Work   in   India 


viction    was   uppermost    that    the   God   of   the 
Christians  had  nut  failed  them. 

Into  all  ihe  coLinli yside  went  the  news  that  the 
Christians  had  procured  water  in  a  well,  where 
even  the  Brahmins  prophesied  they  would  lail, 
and  that  wUhout  the  aid  of  priest  or  pundit  or 
any  service  to  the  gods.     And  from  all  the  vil- 
lages round  about  the  people  came   to  see  the 
"Jesus  Christ  well."  as  it  was  commonly  called. 
it  was  the  best  sermon  we  had  ever  had  in  the 
district.     From  that  day  we  heard    no  more  of 
the  Christians  being  turned  out;   the  well  had 
conquered  and  the  followers  of  Jesus  were  re- 
ceived into  the  community.     A  few  weeks  later 
they  were  hMding  a  service  in  the  house  of  the 
KJmasJji.    preaching    to   so.Tie   Oi'   their    oncC 
bitter  opponents  of  the  love  of  Jesus. 


TAKING   A    CITY 


Among  the  native  chiefs  of  Central  India  none 
has  proved  more  interestini,'  in  Mission  history 
than  the  late  Maharaja  of  Dhar.     For  many  years 
suffering  from  an  infirmity  which  robbed  him  of 
the  use  of  his  limbs,  he  disf  ayed  a  vigour  of 
mind  and  an  interest  in  public  affairs  that  not 
only  endeared  him  to  his  people,    but  won   for 
him  the  admiration  and   esteem  vi   the  British 
representatives.     Heir  to  an  estate  that  had  held 
together  only  by  British  intervention,  he  showed 
his  gratitude  by  loyalty  to  ihe  suzerain  power 
and  a  wise  administration.     Most  of  oui  mission- 
aries have  paid  a  visit  to  his  capital.     On  the 
occasion   of  the    proclamation   of   Her   Majesty 
Queen  Victoria  as  Empress  of  India.  Mr.  Builder, 
being  present  in  Dhar,  was  asked,  as  a  part  of 
the  function,   to  engage  in  prayer.     Signilicant 
was  this  occasion  when,  as  a  Christian  Queen 
was  proclaimed   Empress  over  a   non-Christian 
land.  Christian  prayer  for  the  first  time  ascended 
in  that  non-Christian  court. 

J49 


i 


i 


150  Village  Work   in   India 

I  had  several  tinics  visited  Uhar,  holding  evan- 
gelistic services  in  and  about  the  capitui;  but  in 
the  cold  season  of  iso-^-.  lor  several  weeks  we 
laid  regular  siege,  selling  up  the  Gospel  tent  out- 
side the  citv  wall.     Crowds  (locked  t..  our  meet- 
ings, and  night  alter  night  the  tent  was  filled  to 
overtlowing.     On  several  occasions  we  used  the 
lantern   views,    but    more    frequently   we    gave 
simple  (u)spel  addresses,  telling  over  and  over 
again  the  wonderful  story  of  the  Evangel  and 
man's  redemption  from  sin,  till  the  whole  city 
rang  with  the  Name  of  J  ^us. 

Like  the  lovely  bloom  on  the  forbidding  cactus 
tree,  Dhar  is  one  of  N..ture's  gems  set  down  in 
the  midst  of  bleak  plains  and  woodless  hillsides. 
As  one  climbs  the  barren  rock-strewn  hill,  that 
bars  the  approach  from   Mhow,  a  scene  of  en- 
chantment suddenly  bursts  on  the  vision.     Be- 
low   lies   ;    valley    of   fairy    lakes   and    glorious 
woodland,  closing  in  upon  a  patch  of  red-tiled 
roofs  and  white,  shining  domes.     To  the  right, 
the  fort,  a  huge  yet  shapely  monster  in  red  sand- 
stone,  but   once  breached,   and  that  by   British 
guns,  dominates  not  only  the  town  but  the  land- 
scape.    Bevoud  the  lake  at  our  feet  and  away  to 
the  left  stretches  a  noble  grove  of  mango-trees, 
surrounding    the    Maiv.t.raia's   garden   and   guest 


lAk 


MM 


City 


Isl 


house,  f'.ir  to  the  right,  behind  the  fort,  lies  a 
still  lar-i.T  Like,  and  on  its  further  border,  crown- 
ing a  hilltop,  the  famous  temple  of  Kd/f  Devi 
hovers  like  a  bird  of  evil  omen  on  the  horizon. 
Grouped  beneath  the  walls  of  the  fort  .ind  about 
the  open  parai'.e  ground  in  its  front,  lie  a  few 
buildings  without  the  city  walls,  the  school, 
dak-bungalow  and  post-office,  the  fruits  of  days 
of  peace;  while  the  city  itself,  except  for  the 
palace,  temple  domes  and  a  few  patches  of  wall 
and  roof-tops,  is  lost  in  the  profus'on  of  tropical 
foliage. 

It  was  in  the  mango  grove  near  the  garden  we 
had  made  our  encampment;  and  here  every  af- 
ternoon flocked  the  young  men  of  the  city,  at- 
tracted many  of  them  doubtless  by  curiosity,  but 
all  led  round  to  talk  of  the  responsibility  of  life 
and  the  New  War.  The  mornings  we  spent  in 
the  mahalias  and  neighbouring  villages,  and  the 
evenings  at  the  Gospel  tent.  One  afternoon  we 
were  invited  to  hold  a  meeting  in  the  Maharaja's 
large  schoolhouse.  The  building  is  a  plain  yet 
massive  structure,  surrounding  the  four  sides  of 
a  quadrangle,  and  capable  of  accommodating 
some  400  pupils.  Our  meeting,  which  numbered 
about  300,  including  nearly  all  the  otificials  and 
educated  young  men  of  the  city,  was  held  in  the 


1  r2  Village   Work   in   Iiului 

l.irge    front    class-room,    overlooking'   the   main 
roadway.     It  was  an  inspiring  as  well  as  a  pic- 
turesque pathenng;  the  white  muslin  coats,  silk 
scarves  and  red  turbans  of  the  Maratha  officials, 
who  were  grouped  in  the  front  benches,  set  off 
keen    intellectual   faces   and   bright   questioning 
eyes,  that  showed  our  words  were  not  falling  on 
inattentive  ears.     The  tirst  address  was  in  Eng- 
lish, a  plain,  simple  presentation  of  the  gospel 
message.     This  was  followed  by  singing,  to  the 
accompaniment  of  the  baby  organ,  and  an  ad- 
dress   in    Hindi.     One   of   the   leading  officials 
present  then  asked  permission  to  repeat  the  sub- 
stance of  the  addresses  in  Marathi.  the  mother- 
tongue  of  manv  p'-esent      It  was  only  an  hour's 
talk,  but  an  hour  of  immense  possibilities,  for  it 
was    spent    by   the   flower   and   youth   of   that 
heathen  city  in  contact  with  the  Gospel  of  Jesus. 
The  officials  came  frequently  to   our   regular 
meetings  in  the  tent,   which  was  erected  on  a 
corner  of  the  parade  ground  opposite  the  school 
building.     The  interest  in  these  never  diminished 
throughout  our  whole  visit;  crowds  of  from  two 
to  five  and  six  hundred  tlocked  nightly  to  the 
tent,  until  we  calculated  that  probably  the  whole 
city!  at  least  the  male  portion,  mu^t  have  been 
present  at  one  or  other  of  our  meetings. 


Taking  a  City 


i>^ 


The  reports  of  these  enthusiastic  gatherings 
brought  Mis.  Russell  and  several  of  the  Mission 
ladies  out  to  visit  us,  whom  the  State  authorities 
joined  us  in  welcoming,  ordering  commodious 
tents  to  be  erected  for  their  use.  Little  di.  any 
of  us  suspect  the  issues  that  lay  hidden  in  that 
gathering  of  Gods  missionary  servants  beneath 
the  walls  of  the  far  off  heathen  city.  One  after- 
noon the  court  carriages  were  sent  to  summon  us 
to  the  palace  to  an  interview  with  the  Maharaja. 
All  were  included  in  the  invitation,  special  men- 
tion being  made  of  the  baby  and  baby  organ. 
On  reaching  the  palace,  an  unpretentious  though 
many  roomed  structure  facing  an  empty  square 
in  the  heart  of  the  city,  we  were  ushered  through 
the  durbar  hall,  rich  with  hangings  of  silk  and 
tinsel  and  many  coloured  lamps,  into  a  small 
plainly  furnished  audience  chamber,  where  His 
Highness,  seated  on  a  silver  throne,  received  us 
with  Oriental  effusion.  Though  he  himself  was 
plainly,  almost  carelessly  dressed,  gorgeously 
caparisoned  Liujpriissis  surrounded  the  throne, 
one  wielding  the  huge  yak-tail  punkah,  another 
holding  his  scarf,  while  the  ubiquitous  private 
secretary,  under  whose  auspices  our  visit  had 
been  arranged,  ever  hovered  near  to  catch  the 
Maharajas  slightest  wis.       Though  we  would 


>54 


VilhiLrc  Work   in   India 


have  prefL'iicd  to  stand.  u\'  w.  re  all  seated  on 
chairs  near  to  His  Hi-hiuss,  that  he  mi^ht  ques- 
tion each  one  as  lie  wished.  One  could  not  but 
be  struck,  on  nearer  view,  with  the  kind  and 
genial  expresi^ion  that  surmounted  and  lent  dig- 
nity to  that  frail  frame.  He  seemed  pleased  to 
hear  our  Christian  hymns,  especially  one  sung  by 
our  Native  preachers  in  Marathi,  his  mother 
language;  and  listened  attentively  to  the  ex- 
planation of  their  meaning  and  to  an  account  of 
our  work. 

After  the  l.idies  had  held  a   private  audience 
with  the  Maharani,  who  presented  them  all  with 
mementoes  of  their  vi.>it,  paying  special  atten- 
tion to  the  little  fellow,  we  returned  to  camp. 
We  were  the  cynosure  of  many  eyes  as  we  trav- 
ersed  the  bazaar   in   the   Raja's   carriages,    and 
doubtless  the  thoughts  of  all   went  wandering 
after  the  consequences  when  Christianity  touched 
the  throne.     As  for  ourselves,  it  seemed  a  titting 
event  to  crown  the  many  inspiring  experiences 
we  had  enjoved  in  that  heathen  city;  it  touched 
our  imagination,  as  well  as  tilled  us  with  thank- 
fulness, that  from  the  low-caste  labourers  in  the 
tnahallas  right  up  to  the  throne,  the  gospel  mes- 
sage had  not  only  penetrated  but  been  graciously 
received. 


Takinn;  a  City  i^j 

Was  it  anv  wonder  that  ;is  we  gathered  that 
eveninpr  round  our  altar  under  the  mnnso-tree?;, 
visions    of    future   conquest    tilled   our   n.inds - 
The  stillness  of  night  was  round  us;  except  for 
a  few  tonitoins  at  Sijnie  belated  tiKiniaye  feast, 
the  whole  city  was  at  rest;  and  it  api^/aled  to  us 
with   all   the    helplessness    and    trustfulness   of 
sleep.     We    knew   that    the    great   gates    were 
closed,  but  to  our  hopeful  vision  the",    -cemed  'o 
be  rolling  back  on  their  rusty,  cie.iking  I   nges. 
with   the   reluctant  conviction  that   n.  ver  more 
could  they  bar  the  way  to  the  Christ  Oi  God.     It 
was  in  this  solemn  hour  of  prayer  at  the  jungle  s 
edge,  with  the  fever  of  India's  millions  upon  us, 
that  Dhar  burned  itself  into  our  hearts;  and  we 
determined  to  take  no  rest  till  the  dumb  appeal 
of  its  waiting  people  had  been  heeded,  and  some 
permanent  means   provided   for   teaching   them 
the  Christ  message. 

The  significance  of  the  opening  of  a  new  mis- 
sion station  c;in  hardly  be  overestimated.  It  is 
the  most  conspicuous  sign  of  a  Mission's  ad- 
vance; it  is  the  stakin-  out  of  new  claims,  the 
definite  and  permanent  assumption  of  obligation 
for  the  neighbourhood's  evangelisation;  it  is  a 
multiplication  of  the  mission,  a  repetition  of  its 
institutions  and  agencies  in  another  centre,  and 


,  r6  Vilhi.u''^   Work    in   India 

when  done  after  due  deliberation  and  without 
criprlin^i   the   older  stations,   is  a  most  dellnite 
source  of  stren^'th.     The  opening  of  a  new  sta- 
tion is  none  the  less  sit^niiticant  to  the  people; 
to   them   it   is   the   unfurling  of   the  banner  uf 
Christ  in  their  midst,  it  means  that  the  hitherto 
casual  visitors  havo   come  to  stay.     To  preju- 
dice and  superstition  it  is  perhaps  an  unwelcome 
invasion,  but  to  many  it  is  a  herald  of  friendliness 
and  good  cheer,  and  to  all  it  is  the  conviction 
that  the  religion  of  the  Christ  has  become  a  part 
of  the  community's  life. 

The  opening  of  a  new  station,  however,  is  not 
a  hasty  matter;  the  spirit  of  Christian  imperial- 
ism has  ever  to  contend  not  only  with  many  ob- 
stacles but  a  large  amount  of  conservatism  and 
caution.     But  in  this  case  the  whole  mission  was 
enthused;  over  2,000  rupees  were  subscribed  by 
its  members,  an  appeal  made  to  the  church   at 
home,   and   a   committee   appointed   to  see  the 
work  begun.     When,  however,  a  few  months 
later  we  came  to  face  the  task  of  making  a  per- 
manent entrance  into  Dhar,  our  faith  in  the  final 
result  was  confronted  by  no  little  uncertainty  as 
to  the  difficulties  in  the  way.     There  is  a  vast 
difference  between  a  temporary  visit  to  a  place 
and  a  permanent  uccupation;  many,  whose  curi- 


Taking  a  City 


)/ 


o^itv  nnd  vnnitv  together  with  n  sen?;e  of  liospi- 
t.ilitv.  even  wflcome  the  transient  visitor,  would 
hesitate  if  not  (appose  his  permanent  residence. 
Nor  was  this  uncertainty  lessened  by  the  refusal 
of  our  request  f<ir  an  audience  with  the  Maharaja, 
before  whom  we  wished   personally  to  lay  our 
plans.     Could  it  be  th.it  his  former  attitude  had 
changed,  and  sympathy  been  supplanted  by  sus- 
picion ?    On   our   beinjif    referred   to   the    M;/7'- 
PiziJii,  however,  we  were  soon  made  to  see  the 
guiding  hand  of  God.     As  we  entered  his  liaftar, 
the  first  object  that  met  our  eyes  was  a  Christian 
Bible  lying  upon  the  table;  it  was  a  good  omen. 
He  listened  sympathetically  while  we  boldly  pre- 
ferred our  request.     We  told  him  of  our  interest 
in  Dhar,  of  the  way  in  which  we  had  been  re- 
ceived, and  of  our  intention  to  come  and  reside 
permanently,  bringing  the  gospel  with  us.     We 
also  told  him,  for  the  missionary  propaganda  has 
its  diplomacy,  that  our  sta.T  would  include  a  ladv 
doctor  to  minister  to  the  ills  of  the  women.     We 
asked  for  enough  land,  either  by  sale  or  gift,  for 
a   mission  bungalow  and  hospital,  and  help  to 
purchase   building   material  and  to  procure  ac- 
commodation   in    the    city   for  dispensary  and 
preaching  hall. 
Experience   had    led   us  to  e.xpect  difTiculties. 


-8  Vil!;!^''''   Work    in    IiuIki 


Dr  Camrbcll  !vul  livcJ  f-r  a  whnk-  hot  season 
in  a   native  h^u^e  :n  the  Rutlam  ha/aar,  before, 
for  verv  shame,   he  was  permitted  to  purchase  a 
piece    of  ground   fc/  a  bun-ahnv;  it  was  only 
after    a    somewhat    similar    eApeiience    by    Dr. 
Buchanan,    and    no    little    opp.-itmn   f-'om   the 
authorities,  that    land  was   purchased  in  Ujiain; 
in  Barwai  our  men  had  been  refused  accommo- 
dation  m  the  ba/aar;  and  ;n  the  state  of  Bhopal 
missionaries  were  at  that  time  refused  even  per- 
mission to  labour.     The  native  chiefs  of  Central 
India   dislike  alienatin-  their  land  lo  foreigners 
who  cannot  become  their  subject:-;  and  it  would 
be    unwise    for    us    as   missionaries    to   use   our 
rights    as    British    subjects    to   c.-mpel   them    to 

do  so. 

Though  no  immediate  answer  could  be  given 
to  our  request,  we  not  onlv  scoured  the  bazaar 
tf,    look    for    accomm(Hlation  for  our  work  and 
helpers,    but    aKo    the    surrounding    district   m 
search  of  a  suitable  site  for  a  bungalow.     Our 
expectations    were    modc-st.    nor    did   our    faith 
equal  that  of  our  native  Christian  helpers,  who 
wished  us  to  ask  for  a  valu.ible  garden  site  near 
the  Maharaja's  parade  ground:  instead  of  which 
we  chose  an  unoccupied  piece  o(  hind  on  a  bare 
hillside,  some  distance  from  the  city  wall. 


Takin^::  a  City 


»59 


Dr.   Margaret  O'Hara,  who  was  one  of  those 
deputed   to   begin    the  work   in    Dhar,  decided, 
after  nnich  deliberation  and  pravef,  that  as  it  was 
then    impossible    for    ihe    n:aie    missionary    to 
accompany  her,  to  go  alone  and  open  the  dis- 
pensary, taking  with  her  native  helpers  to  carry 
on    bazaar   ;!nd  village  work.     The  wisdom    of 
this  decision  was  soon  manifest;  the  Dncau  on 
his  first  visit  to  her  seemed  captivated   by  the 
thought  of  all  r^e  good  a  lady  doctor's  presence 
presaged  to  the  suffering  women  and  children  of 
the  city  and  surrounding  villages.     Marvellous  is 
the  gift  of  healing  in  any  land,  but  among  the 
sulTenng    and    neglected    ones    of    India,    with 
nothing  bu?  the  suprrstitious  barbarisms  of  their 
so-called    medical    men,    too   often   aggravating 
instead   of    mitigating   disease,   it   comes  as  the 
very  touch  of  God;  and  many  a  suffering  crea- 
ture  who  would  pass  by  the  mission  school  and 
shun  the  church,  will  crawl  on  hands  and  knees 
to  the  missi.in  hospital.     Doubtless  the  fact  that 
a    medical    missionary  bulked  so  largely  in  the 
early    beginnings     of    our     mission     in     Dhar, 
accounted  for  th»'  splendid  success  of  our  nego- 
tiations for  land.     The  private  secretary  of  His 
Highness,  the  Maharaja,  in  writing  to  ask  if  he 
might  call  on  Dr.  O  Mara,  thus  expressed  him- 


i6o 


Villafir   Work,   in   India 


self:  "I  need  not  assure  you  how  grateful  \vc 
all  feel  to  you  for  having  started  your  so  laudable 
undertaking,  the  need  of  which  was  so  keenly 
and  badlv  felt  bv  the  inhabitants  of  this  town, 
especially  the  women." 

Added  to  this  were  the  sweet  influences  of  a 
noble    Christian   woman.     Alone    in   a   heathen 
city,  twenty  live  miles  from  the  nearest  Huro- 
pean,  she  ministered  not  only  to  the  bodily  needs 
of  the  women,  but  to  the  spiritual  needs  of  all 
classes  of  the  community.     "  1  have  any  number 
of  visitors  here  every  day,"  .she  wrote,  "people 
come  here  who  do  not  come  to  the  dispensary ; 
last  night  the  wife  of  the  Di'-uJii  sent 
two  Brahmins  out  to  ask  me  to  sing  our  hymns. 
They  stayed  and  asked  all  sorts  of  questions." 
Again    "1  am  as  happy  and  full  of  peace  as  it  is 
possible  to  bo,  had  eighty-one  patients  this  morn- 
ing."    In  another  letter,  ••!  am  going  to  have  all 
the   Dhar  Christum,    here  to  dinner  to-morrow 
night    .     .     .     Hindustani    dinner.  '     Thus  she 
describes  the  tirst  service  in  Dh.ir:    "When  I  left 
there    (she   had    been  visiting   a   patient   in   the 
bazaar)  a  crowd  followed  me  to  the  dispensary 
where  1  took  mv  place  on  the  verandah,  on  a 
cushion    from    mv  t-/;/.   as  there  were  no  seats 
yet.     .     .     .     There   were    over    sixty   women 


Taking  a  City 


le- 


aned children  with  me  on  one  side,  and  the  road- 
way and  othc  side  were  full.  We  sang  several 
hymris,  after  which  Bhagaji  read  the  command- 
ments, and  spoke  for  about  twenty  or  thirty 
minutes.  Before  he  had  finished  a  boy  asked  for 
a  favouriie  hymn,  after  which  Bhagaji  announced 
a  meeting  for  s  v.  m.,"  and  adds,  "I  am  writing 
that  you  may  rejoice  with  me  over  this  Sabbath 
in  Dhar."  Thus  to  the  faith  and  loving  zeal  of 
consecrated  womanhood  is  due  the  honour  of  lay- 
ing the  foundations  of  the  work  in  Dhar 

Meanv\hile  the  negotiations  for  land  were  pro- 
ceeding, the  committee  being  invited  out  to 
finally  decide  on  the  sites  for  bungalow  and 
hospital.  There  was  some  reluctance  about 
granting  the  site  we  had  asked  for  on  the  hill, 
the  state  officials  not  liking  us  to  be  so  far  from 
the  city,  and  chiefly.  I  believe,  because  the 
Maharaja  did  not  consider  the  site  good  enough 
for  us.  Probably  few  incidents  in  the  history  oi 
India's  missions  have  been  more  significant  than 
this  aged  Hindu  Prince,  heir  to  the  exclusive 
traditions  of  his  forefathers  and  the  hoary  preju- 
dices of  caste  and  custom,  and  brought  up  in  ..11 
the  strictest  tenets  of  Brahj-unicai  doctrine, 
t.tking  such  a  nvirked  and  person, d  interest  in  the 
establishment  of  the  tea.hers  of  an  alien  .eiigion, 


l62 


Vilki-rc  Work   in   India 


who  had  come  to  his  capital  but  yesterday.     He 
was  the  moving  spirit  of  the  whole  transaction, 
traversing,    spite    of    his    paralysed    frame,  the 
several  roads  and  by-paths  that  lead  to  the  city 
and   personallv   inspecting   every  available  site; 
and  it  was  at  his  suggestion  that  the  piece  finally 
agreed   upon  v\as   chosen,  a   beautiful    position 
near    the    fort   and   facing  the   parade  ground, 
strange  to  say  the  very  piece  of  land  the  native 
Christians  had  desired  us  to  ask  for.     Besides  the 
bungalow  land,  a  most  appropriate  site  for  the 
hospital  was  granted  just  under  the  walls  of  the 
fort,  and  upon  the  main  road  leading  into  the 
city.     Since  then  a  further  site  has  been  granted 
for  the   orphanage,   in   all   some   twenty  acres. 
The  fact  that  the  owner  of  the  bungalow  land,  in 
addition  to  a  compensatory  site,  received  from 
the  Maharaja  some  Rs.  1,100,  will  give  some  idea 
as  to  the  value  of  the  gift. 

Dr.  O'Hara  was  considerably  disturled  a  few 
days  later  to  hear  that  the  Maharaja  was  delaying 
to  sign  the  deeds  of  gift  until  he  had  a  promise 
fnMii  her.  "What,"  she  asked  herself,  "can  it 
be  ?  Surely  he  docs  not  vvant  me  to  promise  not 
to  preach  the  gospel!"  Thank  God  it  was  no 
such  demand,  but  a  request  for  a  promise  that 
was  only  too  willingly  granted,  a  request  that 


Taking  a  Citv 


163 


showed  the  Jifficuhy  with  which  t!- v  under- 
stood our  complete  indifference  to  cj  as  well 
as  the  spirit  of  liberality  and  true  chanty  that  un- 
derlay the  Maharaja's  deference  to  custom;  he 
wished  her  to  promise  that  a'l  con^-rs  t  the 
womens'  hospital,  rich  and  poor,  and  f  every 
caste,  would  be  treated  alike. 

Buildinu^  was  begun  almost  i  -mediatel-  by 
Mr.  F.  II.  Ru-Nell  who  had  been  .ippoint  i  to  the 
Mission  in  Dhar,  and  in  a  few  months  our  mis- 
sionaries were  under  their  own  roof.  The  mis- 
sion report  for  the  year  says:  "  T  le  speed  with 
which  the  opening  of  Dhar  was  thus  accom- 
plished was  phenomenal.  The  history  of  mis- 
sion work,  at  least  in  Central  India,  can  show  no 
such  record.  To  have  sites  granted,  buildings 
started,  almost  every  branch  ot  the  woik  es- 
tablished, all  within  si.x  weeks  of  the  first 
arrival  of  a  missionary  in  the  station,  is  a  degree 
of  success  in  our  first  beginnings  which  we 
gr.itefully  acknowledge  as  a  special  tavour  from 
God." 


I 


XI 

PLANTING    A   MISSION    AMONG   THE   BHll.S 

Thh   Bluls  jre  not  descendants  of  the  Aryan 
invasi'  ns  but  children  of  the  soil,  the  wild  race 
of   hunters   and   cultivators  who   originally  oc- 
cupied the  fertile  plains  of  Malwa  and  Rajputana; 
and  who,  to  make  room  for  their  moie  skilled 
and  powerful  conquerors,  were  driven  into  the 
mountain  fastnesses  of  the  Vindhyas  and  neigh- 
bouring hills,  from  which  no  power  has  been 
able    to    dislodge    them.      Under    the    Moghul 
rulers,  thev  were  a  peaceable  and  hard  working 
people,  but  with  the  advent  of  the  Maratha  in- 
vaders, thev  were  outrageously  abused.     They 
were  Hogged,  hanged  and  put  to  death  on  any 
pretext;  with  noses  and  the  ears  shaved  off,  they 
were   exposed   to  the   boiling  sun;   they   were 
thrown  by  hundreds   from  tall  cliffs  and  their 
women  were  outraged  and  mutilated.     Abuses 
like  these  changed  the  peaceful  and  law-abiding, 
though  naturally  restless  and  roving  Bhils.  mto  a 
wild  and  hunted  people. 

Goaded   by   such   cruelty   and   injustice,   they 
»64 


A  Mission  Among  the  Bhils 


,65 


have  until  lately,  and  in  some  places  up  to  the 
present  time,  maintained  a  plundering  and  hiw- 
less  spirit,  stealing  cattle  or  taking  toll  of  the 
wood-cutters  and  bullock  trains  which  pass 
through  their  jungles,  and  appealing,  especially 
in  famine  times,  to  force  of  arms  for  their  ne- 
cessities. But  by  long-suffering  kindness  and 
abundant  tact,  the  British  are  gradually  winning 
these  people  back  to  a  condition  of  comparative 
quiet  and  law  observance.  Bhil  regiments  have 
been  established;  and  men  thus  trained  have 
been  used  to  quell  their  more  turbulent  neigh- 
bours. They  have  been  brought  to  a  large 
extent  directly  under  British  protection,  and 
assured  a  proper  recognition  of  their  rights  as 
subjects  of  the  King  Emperor. 

Short,  black  men,  thin-limbed  and  wiry,  with 
tierce  looking  faces,  high  cheek-bones,  thick 
matted  hair  and  scanty  clothing,  the  Biiils  are  a 
quick,  active  race,  famous  as  hunters,  handling 
the  bow  and  arrow,  which  are  their  only 
weapons,  with  remarkable  skill,  and  fearing  not 
to  face  the  tiger  in  his  den.  But  they  fly  the  face 
of  strangers.  When  first  we  went  among  them 
in  the  little  valley  of  Kurdi,  up  among  the  moun- 
tains, they  would  hide  in  the  jungle  or  secrete 
themselves  in  the.r  huts  till  we  had  departed.     It 


t  i 


ir/) 


Villatrc  Work   in   India 


was  a  sad  comment  on  the  injustice  they  had 
lu'cn  called  on  to  endure  for  many  years,  that  in 
many  cases  it  was  only  the  men  who  fled,  fear- 
ful lest  we  were  the  agents  of  the  money-lender 
or  representing  some  one  in  authority.  It  was 
only  by  our  singing  the  Christian  hymns  and 
preaching  the  gospel  of  love,  and  their  being 
persuaded  that  we  had  no  connection  with  the 
officials,  th.it  they  were  finally  drawn  from  their 
hiding-places. 

They  live  in  a  meagre  way,  in  houses  built  of 
bamboo,  leaves  and  grass,  sometimes  plastered 
with  clay.  Their  implements  are  few  and 
primitive,  their  clothing  a  loin-cloth,  and  their 
food  corn,  millet,  and  the  fruits  of  the  chase. 
They  are  very  fond  of  liquor,  which  they  bre  v 
from  either  the  toddy  palm  or  ;;/Oa,tV-tree ;  and 
many  of  them  are  terrible  drinkers,  keeping  up 
their  bouts  for  dav  -,,  and  at  times  growing  so 
crazy  as  to  endanger  one  another's  lives.  The 
Bhils,  however,  do  not  live  together  in  villages 
as  do  the  Hindus,  but  in  pJ/s  or  groups  of  huts, 
some  distance  apart,  each  surrounded  by  its  own 
little  tleld  of  grain,  and  sometimes  enclosed  by  a 
fence  of  upright  poles  interlaced  horizontally 
with  bamboos. 

While  the  Bhiis  recognise  Mahadev,  the  Hindu 


i 

i 


A  Mission   Amor.^  i!k-   H!ii!s       1^)^ 

god,  in  fact  cImIiii  to  be  his  descendants,  they  are 
very  superstitious  and  ij^norant,  commonly  pay- 
ing their  devotions  and  (jtTering  sacritices  to 
some  sylvan  fetich,  whose  shrine  is  erected  on  a 
deserted  hilltop  or  within  a  lonely  jun^'le  shade. 
I  have  frequently  seen  collections  of  these  Jt'vas 
and  iiciis  among  the  vvHds  of  the  Vindhyas, 
chief  among  them  probably  being  M.iU,  the 
goddess  of  smallpox,  a  disease  which  is  very 
prevaleiit.  They  are  also  great  fatalists.  "The 
common  answer  of  a  Bhil,"  says  Malcolm, 
"when  ch  iged  with  theft  or  robbery,  is  'i  am 
not  to  blame,  1  am  MaluJtv's  thief.'  In  other 
words  my  destiny  as  a  thief  has  been  fixed  by 
Ciod.  "  On  the  other  hand  they  are  intensely 
loyal  to  their  chiefs  and  leaders,  refus.ng  neither 
to  die  nor  commit  murder  at  their  commanc'.  A 
British  officer,  who  had  been  operating  against  a 
similar  jungle  tribe,  the  Santals,  thus  wrote: 
"Thcvdid  not  understand  yielding;  as  long  as 
their  national  drums  beat,  the  whole  party  would 
stand  and  allow  themselves  to  be  shot  down." 
Such  words  would  be  no  less  true  of  the  Bhils. 
Moreover  they  are  perfectly  loyal  to  their 
women,  who  have  gre.it  intluence  and  are  held 
in  high  esteem.  Though  they  have  often  to 
suffer  for  their  husbands'  wrong-doings,  they  do 


MICROCOPY    RESOLUTION    TEST    CHART 

ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No    2 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


^  112.8 


i.;.l- 


m 
I 


::  1^ 


1.4 


2.5 


Hill  2.2 


2.0 


1.8 


1.6 


^  /APPLIED  irvHGE     inc 

^1  '^"y}   Cost   Ma.-^    bt'eer 

■:=:=  '      482  -  0300  -  Pnone 

==  288  -  5989  -  raw 


1 68 


Village  Work   in   India 


I 


It  willingly,  knowin;;  thev  will  :iot  W  descrtcJ. 
With  all  their  faults  they  are  a  simple,  tractable 
people,  with  less  deeeitfulness  than  their  more 
privileged  neighbours  and  are  capable  of  de- 
velopment into  strong,  earnest  men. 

Two  facts  specially  commended  the  Bhils  to  us 
as  a  field  for  missionary  efTort;  they  have  not 
been  won  uver  from  their  primitive  superstitions 
to  cither  of  the  more  permanent  religions  of 
India,  and  they  are  not  burdened  with  caste. 
The  conviction,  however,  that  the  slow  assimila- 
ting processes  of  Hinduism  were  bound,  sooner 
or  later,  to  engulf  them,  urged  us  to  be  instant  in 
our  efforts  for  their  evangehsation. 

The  Bhils  of  Central  India  are  largelv  within 
the  district  under  the  supervision  of  the  political 
agent  of  Bhopawar;  and  it  was  really  this  offi- 
cial who  tinallv  precipitated  the  long  cherished 
ambition  of  our  mission  to  begin  work  among 
this  needy  people.     Happening   to  visit  him  in 
connection   with    another    matter,    he    enquired 
concerning  our  work  among  the  Bhils;  expressed 
the  deepest  sympathy  with  our  desire  to  uplift 
them;  and.  urging  us  to  begin  a  special  mission 
on  their  behalf  at  once,  volunteered  to  help,  as 
far  as  his  position  allowed,  in  getting  it  estab- 
lished.    Such    an    opportunity   was    not   to   be 


A  Mis^!on  Amonj^^  the  Bhils       169 

neglected  and  the  matter  was  immediately  laid 
before  the  church  at  home,  with  the  result  that 
permission  was  granted  to  go  on  without  delay 
and  establish  wurk. 

The  lust  duty  was  to  sele;t  a  site  somewhere 
in  the  vast  hill  country  that  covers   the  whole 
western  part  of  the  Central  India  agency.    It  was 
for  this  purpose  a  little  party  of  two  missionaries 
and   several   native   helpers,  with   a   tonga  and 
single  bullocl.  cart,  set  out  towards  the  end  of 
October,  iSqs,  for  a  trip  through  the  Bhil  country. 
Leaving  Mhow,  our  journey  lay  almost  due  west 
for  sixty  miles  across  Southwest  Malwa,  through 
Uhar,  where  we  paid  the  young  mission  a  brief 
visit,  to  Sirdarpore,  a  small  cantonment  of  Bhil 
soldiers,  and  the  seat  of  the  Bhil  political  agent. 
We  found  our  friend  the  inspirer  of  our  present 
effort,  had  left  for  hngland;  but  the  temporary 
occupant  of  his  position,  together  with  his  assist- 
ants, did  all  they  could  to  help  us,  giving  every 
information  as  to  mute,  etc.,  and  sending  word 
to  several  of  the  native  chiefs  to  see  that  our 
journey  was  made  as  comfortable   as  possible. 
Civilisation  and  comfort  however,  were  practic- 
ally deserted  when  we  left  Sirdarpore  and  the 
good  roads,  for  the  rough  trip  down  the  Vindhyas 
and     along     the     foothills    towards     Rajpore. 


170 


\'illaji<*  Work,   in   India 


It  was  our  uitonlion  to  liavcl  west  to  the  ex- 
treme limit  of  the  Central  India  a^'cnc}',  and  then 
turning  north  strike  the  new  railway  to  Godra 
and  return  via  Rutlam,  As  our  trip  was  long  we 
travelled  light,  a  small  tent,  bedding,  clothes  and 
food. 

in  spite  of  this  the  first  day's  journey  out  of 
Sirdarpore  Vv'as  fraught  with  more  difficulties 
than  we  had  anticipated;  and  night  overtook  us 
in  the  middle  of  the  .>teep  ^i^hdls,  before  we  had 
reached  any  suitable  camping  place.  Our  road 
followed  the  dry  course  of  a  mountain  torrent, 
steep  and  boulder  strewn,  and  so  narrow  in 
places  that  we  could  touch  the  rock  on  either 
side.  Buchanan  was  ahead  with  the  empty 
tonga,  and  he  seemed  to  have  no  little  difficulty 
in  finding  two  parallel  passages  among  the 
stones,  where  wheels  and  horses  could  run  to- 
gether. I  was  in  command  of  the  descent  of  the 
bullock  cart.  V/e  had  tied  a  drag  rope  to  the 
wheel  manned  by  a  native  helper  and  myself, 
while  another  stood  by  to  block  the  cart  with 
stones  if  the  descent  proved  too  fast  for  both  us 
and  the  oxen.  All  was  going  on  as  satisfactorily 
as  the  rough  roads  would  permit,  when  sud- 
denly, as  the  cart  plunged  from  the  top  of  a 
great  boulder,  the  ropes  binding  axle  and  cart 


A  Mission  Among  the  Bliils       171 

together  broke  asunder,  and  the  whole  load  slid 
forward  on  top  of  the  oxen,  felling  them  as 
though  they  had  been  shot,  and  frightening  the 
poor  driver  till  his  (acc  almost  turned  white  in 
the  moonlight.  None  of  them  '-.owever  were 
any  the  worse;  but  we  were  forced  to  unload 
and  carry  everything  to  the  foot  of  the  hill, 
where  we  gathered,  like  a  shipwrecked  crew, 
round  the  wreckage  of  our  bullock  cart.  Fortu- 
nately the  moon  was  full,  and  with  the  jungle 
almost  as  light  as  day,  we  were  soon  able  to 
mend  the  cart  sufficiently  to  proceed  on  our 
way.  We  were  either  too  formidable  or  too 
fagged  and  hungry  looking  to  prove  any  tempta- 
tion to  the  wild  beasts,  for  we  travelled  through 
their  jungles  till  near  midnight  before  we  found 
a  suitable  camping  place.  We  halted  at  last  on 
the  banks  of  a  noisy,  rushing  mountain  stream; 
but  too  tired  to  erect  our  tent,  we  made  a  cup  of 
tea,  and,  throwing  ourselves  down  beneath  a 
wide-spreading  iiiozi.iT-tree,  slept  till  daylight. 

For  the  ne.xt  two  days  our  journey  led  through 
a  broken  yet  beautiful  country.  The  hillsides 
were  still  clothed  in  green;  temn't,  tirnich  and 
thornv  bcr,  with  an  occasional  vellow-clad 
giim'Viir  or  patch  of  jungle  te.ik.  though  none  of 
them  much  in  themselves,   were    woven   into  a 


!  < 


172 


Village   Work,   in   India 


mantle  of  beautiful  \erdure.  Dotted  here  and 
there  among  the  trees,  we  could  see  the  little 
grass  huts  of  the  Bhils,  surrounded  by  miniature 
fields  of  maize  and  jo-^'dr.  Every  few  miles  the 
road  was  crossed  by  a  limpid  stream  fresh  from 
the  mountains,  that  splashed  along  merrily  be- 
neath the  shadow  of  mighty  banyan,  dark-hued 
woii'a  and  graceful  palm-tree.  As  the  country 
was  strange  and  the  tracks  ofcen  very  difficult  to 
follow,  we  were  obliged  to  procure  guides,  and 
to  renew  them  at  each  village  ;  for  though  the 
Bhil  knows  every  foot  of  ground  within  five  or 
six  miles  of  his  hut,  but  few  of  them  ever  ven- 
ture beyond. 

At  night  we  would  camp  on  the  banks  of 
some  clear  flowing  stream,  beneath  a  many 
pillared  banyan;  and  in  the  morning,  after  a 
hurried  breakfast,  send  off  the  native  helpers 
with  the  bullock  cart,  arranging  to  meet  them  at 
a  rendezvous  in  the  evening,  while  we  moved  on 
more  leisurely  in  the  tonga,  stopping  to  gather 
information  on  the  way.  On  one  or  two  occa- 
sions this  led  to  some  confusion.  The  third  day 
out  the  guides  with  the  bullock  cart,  either  mis- 
understanding the  route,  or  afraid  to  venture  into 
unfriendly  territory  by  taking  the  right  one,  led 
the  native  helpers  in  an  entirely  different  direc- 


A  Mission  Amontr  the  Bhils 


'7^5 


tion,  and  we  found  ourselves  in  tho  cvenmp;  at 
the  place  of  appointment,  without  tent,  food  or 
bedding.  Fortunately  we  had  rugs  and  were  not 
afraid  to  camp  in  the  open;  so  we  slept  on  the 
tonga  cushions,  with  saddle  for  pillow;  and  the 
remains  of  the  midday  lunch  kept  body  and  soul 
together  till  we  found  the  lost  camp  next  morning 
many  miles  away. 

Our  first  objective  point  was  a  small  town,  the 
seat  of  the  pretty  Hindu  chief,  with  whom  we 
spent  a  pleasant  evening  telling  of  our  mission 
and  the  message  we  had  come  to  proclaim.  He 
was  still  a  young  man,  but  evidently  unawakened 
to  any  ambition  either  for  himself  or  for  his 
people.  Good  natured  and  hospitable,  with  a 
face  that  betokened  no  little  potentiality,  and  a 
body  that  might  contain  a  noble  mind,  he  ap- 
peared to  be  the  creature  of  the  thousand  ener- 
vating influences  that  surround  the  Indian  throne. 
With  exceptional  opportunity  for  benefiting  his 
people,  and  subjects  peculiarly  responsive,  to 
whom  paternal  government  is  almost  of  the  na- 
ture of  an  instinct,  like  too  many  of  India's  chiefs, 
his  horizon  was  limited;  he  lacked  the  inspiration 
of  a  great  ideal  and  the  touch  of  the  divine  spirit 
to  set  his  soul  on  fire  of  God.  In  this,  as  in  all 
the  towns  and  large  villages,    we  found   many 


'74 


Village   Work   in    India 


Hindus,  Brahmin  priests  and  officials,  Bunya 
shopkeepers  and  the  village  tradesmen,  whose 
intluence  was  often  anything'  but  helpful  to  the 
unsophisticated  Bhils.  These  latter  formed  almost 
the  entire  population  of  the  district,  living  in 
scattered  groups  of  huts  or  pah.  each  ruled  over 
bv  a  tana'  or  headman,  who  in  turn  acknowl- 
edged the  authority  of  the  Hindu  chief  or  central 

power. 

We  preached  in  each  large  centre  as  we 
journeyed.  Among  the  Hindus  we  had  good 
audiences,  but  we  found  it  difficult  not  only  to 
get  within  talking  distance  of  the  Bhils,  but  to 
make  ourselves  understood  when  we  did;  for 
they  speak  a  mixed  language  of  Hindi,  Gujurati 
and  apparently  some  remnants  of  a  primitive 
tongue  of  their  own,  and  much  of  what  we  said 
to  them  was  tl^erefore  unintelligible. 

In  our  search  for  a  location  for  the  Bhil  Mission 
we  were  guided  by  several  considerations.  We 
desired  our  work  to  be  central,  and  within  reach 
of  as  large  a  number  of  people  as  possible.  We 
were  anxious  also  that  it  should  be  in  a  locality 
where  the  soil  was  good  and  water  plentiful,  as 
it  was  our  purpose  to  develop  training  along  the 
lines  of  industrial  and  farm  work.  The  healthi- 
ness of  the  site  fur  our  missionaries  and  its  accessi- 


A   MisMon   Aiiionp;  the   Rhils       ijj 

bility  from  without  were  further  important  con- 
siderations. But  we  were  particularly  desirous 
of  settling  in  a  neiglibourhood  where  Hinduising 
tendencies  amonj  the  Bhils  were  least  apparent. 
Though  they  are  not  assimilated  as  yet  to  any  of 
the  more  settled  religions,  the  development  of 
towns,  the  introduction  of  priest  and  bunya  and 
especially  of  Hindu  cultivators  were  fast  moving 
in  that  direction.  Many  of  these  requirements 
we  found  to  be  fulfilled  in  Ali  Rajpore,  a  state  to 
the  extreme  west  of  Central  India,  it  is  almost 
in  the  centre  of  ihc  Bhil  district,  and  within 
reach  of  some  two  million  people;  a  large  part  of 
it  is  pl.iin,  the  soil  is  good,  wood  and  wafer  plen- 
tiful and  the  natives  still  in  their  primitive  con- 
dition. We  would  almost  have  recommended 
this  at  once  but  for  its  inaccessibility  from  either 
the  railway  or  our  other  stations,  the  nearest 
point  on  the  railway  being  forty  miles  away  and 
over  an  almost  impassable  road. 

in  the  absence  of  the  Raja,  who  was  pursuing 
his  studies  m  tiie  Raj  Kumar  college  (for  princes) 
at  Indore,  we  were  most  cordially  welcomed  to 
this  state  by  the  Di-uau,  wno  united  with  the 
other  officials  in  making  our  visit  most  pleasant. 
We  were  made  the  guests  of  the  state,  estab- 
lished in  the  Raja's  guest  house,  and  practically 


.76 


X'ili.mc   Work    in    Iiuli.i 


pivcn  tln'  tretJoin  nf  the  town,  the  officials  do- 
111^'  what  was  in  ihoir  power  to  supply  us  with 
the  desired  information  and  further  the  object  of 
our  journey.     From  the  Dr^Jii.  an  astute  Brah- 
min, and  an  old  friend  of  one  of  our  missionaries, 
Dr.  Campbell,  we  learned  much  concerning  the 
customs,  language  and  reli-ion  of  the  Bhils,  as 
well  as  their  accessibility,  or  rather  inaccessibility, 
and  the  manner  of  reaching  them,     in  company 
with  another  of  the  citizens  of  the  town,  him- 
self an  educated  Bhil,  \vc  paid  a  visit  one  even- 
ing to  a  pjl  not  far  Iroin  town.     The  presence  of 
our  guide  allayed  the  fears  of  the  timid  people; 
and  sitting  in  front  of  their  houses  beneath  the 
gourd  vines,  the  moonlight  playing  fitfully  across 
their  faces,   between  the   llickering  shadows  of 
the  vine  leaves,  they  listened  attentively  while  we 
told  our  story.     But  with  al'  their  attention  they 
could  take  in  so  little  of  what  we  said;  it  was 
all  so  new,   the  language  was  strange;    and  it 
onlv  served  to  emphasise  more  fully  the  need  of 
some  special  elTort  on  their  behalf. 

The  trip  north  from  Ali  Rajpore  was  for  the 
first  two  or  three  days  over  a  better  road;  the 
country,  though  none  the  less  picturesque,  was 
more  level,  and  had  broader  plains.  Spite  of  this, 
however,  the  camp  and  the  bulluck  cart  managed 


A   Mission   AiiKio':  the    Hliils       i 


/  / 


again  to  get  lost,  the  guides  evidently  purposely 
avoiding  the  place  of  rendezvous.  W'c  ourselves 
were  late  in  arriving;  it  was  a  lonely  village  deep 
in  the  Hhil  jungle;  and  we  found  no  ime  awake, 
or  at  least  willing  \o  discluse  himself  tn  the 
strangers;  nor  did  uur  search,  reveal  anv  place  in 
tile  v'lllage  where  we  could  lind  a  might's  lodging. 
Hunting  around  in  the  dark  fuv  a  well,  we  found 
one  just  on  the  edge  ul  the  jungle;  and,  unvo- 
king  and  watering  the  horses,  s.it  down  to  wait 
for  the  dilatory  bullock  cart.  By  ten  o'clock  we 
had  given  up  hope;  so  making  ourselves  a  cup 
of  tea,  without  either  milk  or  sugar,  but  with  .i 
peculiarly  strange  taste,  and  scraping  the  pieces 
of  broken  biscuit  from  the  bottom  of  the  tit'fln 
basket,  we  made  a  meal  which  was  the  tirst  since 
breakfast;  and,  wrapping  ourselves  up  in  the 
rugs,  lay  down  beneath  the  trees,  beside  the 
camp-fire,  to  sleep.  Buchan.in  found  some 
stones  to  lie  on.  init  I  preferred  the  bare  ground. 
Spite  of  the  hard  bed.  and  an  unguarded  camp, 
for  we  had  been  unable  to  procure  a  watchman, 
and  the  gruesome  company  of  a  tiger  haunted 
jungle,  we  slept  soundly  till  d.ivlight. 

Hunger  is  a  restless  companion,  and  our  wa- 
king thoughts  n.iturallv  turned  to  the  lost  camp 
and  our  provisions.     We  felt  that  it  u'ould  be 


.78 


Vill.i'T   Work   in   India 


useless  to  try  the  vilLigc   for  even  if  we  did  pro- 
cure flour  It  would  be  valueless  without  cooking 
vessels,  and  the  cart  could  not  be  far  away.     I 
determined    however    that    before    starting  we 
should  have  a  cup  of  tea,  so  taking  the  kettle. 
which  we  always  carried,  with  a  little  tea,  in  the 
tonga,  I  went  over  to  till  it  at  the  well  where  we 
had    procured   the  tea  water  during  the   lught. 
The  well   was  built  square  with  steps   leading 
down  to  a  platform  by  the  water  s  edge.     What 
was  my  surprise  to  see  down  on  this  platform  a 
fat,    greasy-looking     bunya    washing    himself. 
"What  are  you  doing  down  there  .^"    1  asked, 
somewhat  sharplv.     "  An;  Sjhih !  Im  washing 
myself,"  he  replied  without  ceasing  th.e  rubbing 
at   his  gnmv-lookmg  limbs.     "What!"  1  said, 
"in  the  well.^"     "Oh,  this  is  not  the  drinking 
well,    Sahib,    this    is    the   washing   well."     My 
thoughts  I  dare  mn  describe;  needless  to  say  we 
set  out  without  our  cup  of  tea. 

Retracing  our  steps  over  the  journey  of  the 
previous  day,  we  watched  carefully  for  any  signs 
of  the  stray  bullock  cart.  It  was  very  hot  and 
we  weie  very  hungry,  but  we  did  not  see  a  sign 
of  habitation  for  some  two  hours,  till  suddenly 
we  came  on  a  Bhil.  busv  in  the  jungle.  He  had 
no  time  to  flee,  so  in  desperation  we  tackled  him 


A   Missii)n  Among  the   Bhils       \~() 

for  somethinji  to  eat,  persuading  him,  after  much 
Hindi  and  more  signs,  to  bring  us  a  little  n.Jk. 
This  we  boiled,  fur  want  of  another  vessel,  in 
the  lofj  (drinking  cup;  together  with  a  little  oat- 
meal we  found  in  the  tiffin  basket,  but  without 
either  salt  or  watei— we  were  shy  of  wells  that 
morning.  It  was  a  slim  breakfast,  and  from  his 
looks  as  he  watched  the  operation,  evidently  a 
revelation  to  the  poor  Bhil,  but  it  dulled  the  edge 
of  hunger.  A  few  hours  later  we  found  the  cart 
tracks,  easily  distinguishable  by  the  wide  tire 
marks  from  those  of  the  rude  ,;'.//7i-  used  by  the 
Bhils.  it  was  night,  however,  before  we  linally 
caught  up  to  them,  at  a  village  many  miles  away, 
after  being  separated  for  thirty-six  hours. 

As  we  neared  Jhabua  the  country  got  broken 
and  hilly  again  and  we  found  the  steep  rocky 
approaches  to  the  river  ford  near  the  town,  a 
severe  strain  on  the  tonga.  Here  again,  thanks 
to  the  political  agent,  we  were  given  a  hearty 
welcome  by  the  Dncju,  and  everything  provided 
for  our  comfort.  The  chief  function  was  a  visit 
to  the  mouldy  old  palace,  that  seemed  to  have 
stood  the  siege  of  sun  and  rain  for  many  ages, 
where  we  were  introduced  to  the  Raja.  He  ex- 
pressed a  strong  desire  to  be  photographed  in  his 
regal  robes,  seated  in  the  throne  room;  but  roy- 


iSo 


Vilhi'H-   Work   in   India 


:il!v  was  l^cyMnd  tlu-  i.ip.icity  '^f  ''''V  camera. 
From  the  /)/■;.,///  wc  learned  that  the  Bhil.-<  in 
this  slate  havl  been  quite  subdued,  but  not  in  any 
way  civihsed;  though  their  potentiality  tor  this 
was  evidenced  in  several  well  educated  Bhil  boys 
we  were  shown  in  the  Raja's  college.  "Until 
his  heart  is  reached"  said  the  Dncdii,  "and 
higher  motives  implanted,  the  Bhil  will  always 
r'^'rain  the  wild  man  of  tlie  woods." 

It  was  m  this  State,  after  we  had  completed 
our  tour  of  the  whole  district,  in  a  healthy,  well 
wooded  and  n-ell  wauied  spot,  some  few  miles 
from  the  railway,  we  finally  chose  ti'.e  site  which 
we   determined  to  recommend  to   the   Mission 
Council  as  being,   if  not  as  ideal  a  site  as  Ali 
Rajpore,  at  least  much  more  accessible.     Beli^ire 
our  council  could  meet,  however,  the  Brahmins 
had  been  at  work,  and  the  land,  which  was  in 
the  gift  of  the  Queen  Mother,  was  refused  us; 
nor  were  any  ne-ot'ations  for  a  site  in  the  same 
neighbourhood  successful.     A  few  months  later 
the   political  official,    whose  sympathy  and  en- 
couragement  had  at  first  been  instrumental  in 
precipitating  this  movement,  returned  from   his 
trip  to  England.     1  w.is  struck  with  his  reply, 
when  immediately  on  his  return  1  went  out  to 
tell  him  of  our  non-success:  "1  am  not  sorry," 


A  Mission  AiiT^ne:  the  Bhils       18 1 


he  said,  "for  1  think  you  will  be  able  to  procure 
a  better  site,  with  not  only  the  advantages  of  the 
one  you  sought,  but  in  a  more  densely  populated 
district,  and  where  Hinduising  influences  will  be 
much  less  felt."  His  long  per.;ona!  acqui'.intance 
with  these  people  led  us  to  place  the  greatest  re- 
liance upon  his  advice,  and  we  agreed  to  visit 
him  a  few  months  later,  when  he  would  be  in 
camp  in  the  Bhil  district,  and  see  some  of  the 
sites  he  would  recommend. 

it  was  in  January  of  97,  more  than  a  year  after 
our  first  tour,  that  we  were  invited  to  meet  the 
political  agent  it  his  camp  in  the  valley  of 
Amkhut,  near  Ali  Rajpore.  On  this  occasion  we 
travelled  light,  and  the  road  was  not  only  better 
known  but  in  better  condition,  having  been  put 
in  order  for  our  host  who  was  on  tour.  We 
found  his  camp  at  the  end  of  a  beautiful  valley, 
just  beyond  a  dense  and  magnificently  wooded 
jungle.  The  camp  itself  was  an  imposing  sight, 
for  the  representative  of  the  Queen-Empress 
travels  in  state.  On  the  bank  of  a  bright,  clear 
stream,  with  a  beautifully  clad  hillside  climbing 
out  of  the  trees  beyond,  were  erected  the  dwell- 
ing tent,  dining,  durbar  and  guest  tents.  Across 
an  open  square,  shaded  here  and  there  by  mag- 
nificent ??/t)aV?-trees,  lines  of   elephants,  camels, 


i82  Village  Work   in   India 

horses  and  buHu.'ks.  tethered  in  miHtarv  order 
stood   oat   against  a  background  of  pahn-trees 
and  hillside.     At  one  end  were  grouped  the  tents 
of  tiie  native  clerks  and  assistants,  with  women 
and  children  gossiping  and  playing  round  their 
di-  )rs,  and  at  the  other  the  military  escort  of  Bhil 
soldiers  in  Khaki  tunics  and  gay  turbans— it  was 
a  veritable  city  in  the  wilderness.     Beyond  lay  a 
scene  of  svlvan  enchantment,  a  broad  deep  valley 
watered   bv   a   noisy,   splashing  stream,  whose 
well  wooded  banks  rolled  steadily  up  to  the  hills 
on  cither  side.     Dotted  thickly  over  the  valley, 
some  on  commanding  knolls,  some  bunched  to- 
gether  in  the  tlelds,   and  others  hidden  in  the 
bends  of  the  stream,  were  the  tha'.ch-roofed  huts 
of  the  Bhils.     A  fertile  soil,  wood  and  water  in 
plentv,  at  either  end  a  road  leading  out  into  the 
thickest  part   of   Bhildom,    and   not   a   sight  of 
bunya  or  Hindu  temple  for  many  miles— surely 
this  was  an  ideal  spot  for  our  Mission.     More- 
over it  was  healthv,  the  only  drawback  being  its 
inaccessibility,  lOO  miles  from  our  nearest  station. 
Our  good  friend  the  political  agent  gave  us  carte 
bLvu-hc  in  the  choice  of  a  site:  and  under  the 
guidance  of  the  state  Diicdn,  my  brother  and  I 
made  a  tour  of  the  neighbourhood,  only  in  the 
end  to  come  back  to  the  hill  before  the  camp, 


'     t 


A   Mission   Among  the   Bliils       183 

Vv'hich  for  water  supply,  healthiness  and  situa- 
tion, commanding  as  it  did  a  view  of  the  whole 
length  of  the  valley,  was  almost  ideal. 

We  remained  several  days  in  the  camp  of  the 
.ij^ent,  cultivatmg  the  acquaintance  of  the  people 
and  the  district.  The  administration  of  the  camp 
itself  proved  no  less  interesting  than  its  appear- 
ance was  picturesque.  Business  was  conducted 
with  perfect  thoroughness  and  tact.  Moving 
about  from  centre  to  centre,  ofttimes  out  of  the 
beaten  tracks,  the  political  officer  made  himself 
thoroughly  acquainted  v\'ith  his  agency.  His 
durbar  tent  was  open  to  all  comers,  low  as  well 
as  high.  The  agent  was  prepared  to  hear  the 
slightest  grievance;  several  times  1  saw  a  group 
of  timid  Bhils,  with  some  trilling  complaint,  that 
doubtless  loomed  big  on  their  limited  horizon, 
stand  on  the  outskirts  of  the  camp,  overawed  by 
the  spread  ot  canvas,  the  lane  of  elephants,  the 
military  and  the  sc.irlet-robed  ilnipriissis.  until 
the  sharp  eye  of  a  f.iir-haired,  slightly-built  man, 
in  a  suit  of  tlannels,  detected  them,  and  sending 
for  them  to  state  their  case,  listened  with  as 
much  patience  as  though  they  had  been  a 
deputation  from  the  palace.  It  is  by  such  men, 
rather  than  her  military,  that  England  holds 
India. 


i84 


N'illiiLrc  Work,   in   Iiulia 


Our  frii-nd  coulJ  .show  us  no  more  suitable 
silc  ihcin  the  valley  of  Amkhut;  and  here  it  was 
finally  arranged  our  inission  should  be  located. 
By  the  kinJne.,s  of  the  state  authorities,  who  so 
noblv  seconded  the  sympathies  of  the  agent, 
sixteen  acres  of  land  were  granted  as  well  as  free 
timber  for  building  purposes.  There  was  some 
difficulty  at  tirst  in  handing  over  the  land,  as 
part  of  it  was  occupied;  and  with  customary 
conservatism  the  owner  was  unwilling  to  ex- 
change It  for  another  site,  it  happened  a  few 
weeks  later,  that  he  was  mauled  by  a  panther 
when  out  hunting,  and  was  brought  in  badly 
injured  to  Dr.  Buchanan's  tent,  where  he  was 
not  only  successfully  treated,  but  made  the  loyal 
friend  and  coadjutor  of  the  mission.  Dr.  Bu- 
chanan was  chosen  as  our  first  missionary  to  the 
Bhils;  and  with  none  to  help  him  but  a  few  na- 
tive Christians,  this  earnest  man  set  to  work  to 
fell  trees,  quarrv  stone,  make  bricks  and  burn 
lime,  teaching  these  varied  pursuits  to  the  un- 
skilled Bhils,  as  they  gradually  came  under  his 
influence;  for  he  was  wisely  determined  to  have 
no  foreign,  non-Christian  element  to  poison  the 
minds  of  these  simple  people.  He  was  pe- 
culiarly tilted  for  this  work,  in  th.it  he  combined 
with  his  biblical  and  medical  knowledge  a  prac- 


A  Mission  Among  the  Bhils       18^ 

tical  mind  and  an  energetic  body.  They  were 
very  suspicious  at  first,  all  sorts  cif  stories  as  to 
our  purpose  being  atloat.  (^uiie  unused  to  dis- 
cipline and  regular  work,  they  were  slow  to  learn ; 
but  by  kind  and  skillful  treatnent  of  the  many  sick, 
not  only  of  men  ard  women,  but  even  of  cows 
and  goats,  which  are  the  Bhils  chief  possession, 
the  missionary  gradually  won  his  way  to  their 
hearts.  The  fruit  soon  began  to  be  gathered, 
the  former  occupant  of  the  mission  land  being 
among  the  first  to  be  baptised. 

As  an  illustration  of  this  growing  influence. 
Dr.  Buchanan  tells  the  following  story  in  his  first 
years  report:  "As  1  was  returning  in  the  early 
night  on  my  pony  from  Rajpore,  coming  along 
the  winding  cart  road  in  the  jungle,  within  half 
a  mile  of  the  building  work,  I  heard  the  voices 
of  those  who  were  wending  their  way  home.  A 
sudden  turn  around  a  bush  revealed  to  them  a 
man  on  horseback.  With  a  warning  cry  and 
instinctive  spring,  like  a  brood  of  wild  partridge, 
young  and  old  fled  behind  some  bush  or  hiding- 
place.  It  was  the  work  of  a  moment.  The  next 
some  one  sang  out  in  a  happier  key,  '  Babd  liai, 
Sirf  Bdbd  hat"  (It  is  father,  only  father).  And 
then  out  they  came  from  their  shelter,  some 
twenty  or    thirty,    v.  ith    joyful  expressions  of 


i86 


Villauf?   Work   in   India 


greeting,  as  trustful  as  tlie  mother  brood  when 
sheltered  beneath  the  protecting  wings." 

Alieady  several  score  of  these  timid  creatures 
of  the  jungle  have  been  brought  into  subjection 
to  the  law  of  the  Spirit  of  life  in  Christ  Jesus;  and 
largely  as  the  work  of  their  hands,  there  has  arisen 
upon  the  hilltop  beyond  the  camping-ground, 
not  a  temple  to  S/i/v,  but  a  group  of  buildings 
dedicated  to  the  service  of  the  Living  God.  The 
valley  of  Amkhut  shall  never  become  the  heritage 
of  Mdlidilcr ;  it  has  been  sealed  for  a  possession 
to  the  Son  of  God. 


XII 


IN  A  TIGLR'S  den 

Leaving  the  interesting  little  town  of  Kuksi, 
ere  yet  the  morning  an  had  tempered  the  cool 
night  atmosphere,  we  made  our  way  across  the 
rich  alluvial  plains,  gleaming  golden  with  ripen- 
ing grain,  to  the  foothills  of  the  Vindhyas.  The 
road  was  little  more  than  a  stone-strewn  path- 
way winding  in  and  out  through  the  low-lying 
scrub  of  teak,  her  and  thorny  babul ;  climbing 
the  very  nose  of  a  sloping  mountain  spur,  it  led 
through  a  rocky  cutting,  chokeu  witii  tine,  white 
dust,  and  so  heavv  we  were  forced  to  dismount, 
into  a  piece  of  dense  jungle,  ribbed  and  scored 
with  many  hills  and  nuilahs.  Making  our  way 
through  this  we  came  out  on  a  narrow  plain  in 
front  of  the  quaint  old  village  of  Bagh. 

What  a  weird  place  was  this  little  village  up  in 
the  hills;  strange  legends  had  gathered  round  its 
temples  and  the  crumbling  ruins  of  its  queer  old 
buildings;  and  rustic  tradition  claimed  it  as  one 
of  the  halting  places  of  the  Pandavas  in  their 
wanderings  across  India.     Hven  the  bats  icemed 

1S7 


i88 


Village   Work   in    IiuIli 


tc  have  found  in  it  a  special  retrcal;  as  we  passed 
through  the  banvan  grove,  outside  the  village,  on 
our  way  to  the  evening  meeting  in  the  ba/aar, 
the  great  Hying  foxes  (kalong)  hung  in  festoons 
from  the  branches,  like  animated  fruit.  There 
must  have  been  thousands  of  them  still  hanging 
there,  though  out  to  the  distant  sky  line,  far  as 
.he  eye  could  reach,  we  could  see  a  iM'oad  belt  of 
whirring  blackness,  as  phalanx  alter  phalanx, 
they  kept  speeding  away  on  their  quest  for  food 
to  the  fruit  trees  of  the  neighbouring  valley. 

We  camped  beneath  a  wide-spreading  pipal- 
tree,  just  below  the  frowning  walls  of  some 
ancient  Navak  fortress.  As  conquest  overthrows 
conquest,  and  people  succeed  people  on  the 
plains  of  India,  they  leave  behind  them  but  little 
history,  save  in  the  fossil  deposits  of  their 
mighty  strongholds  and  deep,  stone-bound 
wells.  The  time-worn  u-alls  above  us  spoke 
of  a  more  martial  race  and  prouder  spirit  than 
the  tame  villagers  and  timid  Bhils  of  to-day. 

India  is  a  land  of  mysteries;  shut  otT  by 
mountain  barriers  from  the  rest  of  the  world,  a 
little  continent  in  herself,  she  has  lived,  except 
for  periodical  inroads  through  the  gates  beyond 
the  i^injab,  a  history  of  her  own.  Races  and 
religions  have  been  born,  fought  out  their  brief 


In   a   Tiber's   Den 


189 


struggle,  and  passed  awav,  with  no  Iiistorian  to 
chronicle  their  story.  In  the  midst  of  some  deep 
jungle,  dank  with  undergrowth,  fetid  with  mi- 
asma, the  haunt  of  cobra  atid  tiger,  one  stumbles 
on  some  massive  ruin  that  ages  ago  rang  to  the 
voice  of  song  and  instrument  .md  the  hum  oi 
busy  life.  Up  through  its  crumbling  arches  and 
rent  domes  tower  giant  trees,  while  thick-knotted 
creepers  grasp  and  tear  at  its  loosening  walls. 
But  its  lips  are  dumb;  no  written  record  lies 
buried  in  its  tombs,  no  inscription  crowns  its 
portals.  Such  are  the  sphin.xes  of  India  in 
whose  crumbling  stones  must  be  read  her 
chequered  story. 

There  are  some  monuments  throughout  India 
whose  stones,  though  no  less  bare  of  inscription, 
tell  many  a  tale,  even  to  the  superticial  observer, 
from  their  structure  or  carving.  Such  was  the 
chief  ruin  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Bagh.  We 
had  often  heard  of  the  ca\-es  of  Bagh,  and  village 
tradition  accredited  them  to  the  Pandava  kings. 
Wc  found  them  in  a  deep  jungle,  a  mile  or  so 
from  the  village.  About  twenty  feet  up  the 
sheer  rocky  hiJIside  a  gaping  rent  opened  above 
a  hewn  platform,  showing  that  the  silent  forces 
of  nature  had  supervened  upon  the  work  of  man, 
and  destroyed  the  magnificence  of  the  ancient 


\i)0 


N'illairc   Work   in   India 


verandah.     Beyond  the  ruins  of  tlie  fallen  portal, 
iiowever,  the  real  doorway  remained  intact,  with 
more  or   less  defaced  windo\v>  on  either  side. 
Withm,    all   was   dark;    but  when   our   eyes 
became    accuslonied    to    it,    we    saw    an    im- 
mense chamber,  over  eighty   feet  square,  hewn 
out  of  the  livm<,'  rock.     The  roof,  above  which 
rose  for  one  hundred  feet  the  ^yvA  hilltop,  was 
supported    by    twenty-four    pillars,    twenty    of 
them  bemi;-  m  the  form  of  a  square,  six  on  each 
face,  and   the  other   four  in  the  centre,  and  all 
forming   part  of  the  (jriginal  rock.     The  pillars 
were  beautifully  carved,  the  outside  ones  being 
in  general  form  square,  with  plinth  and  toruses  at 
the  base  and  many-sided  bands  above;  the  centre 
pillars   were    round    shafts   with    spiral   ridges. 
Around  the  two  sides  and  the  rear  was  a  row  of 
seventeen   cells,    whose  darkness  was   plutonic, 
while  in  the  centre  of  the  back  w  all  was  an  ante- 
chamber fronted  bv  t\\  o  massive  pillars.     In  the 
corner  of  the  cave,  squatted  before  a  little  lire 
whose  smoke  tilled  the  air  with  a  pungent  odour, 
was  a  Hindu  fakir.     He  had  the  same  story  to 
tell   as   the   villagers;    the  cave   was   of   Hindu 
origin  and  he  was  now  its  guardian. 

After  some  talk  with  the  old  man  we  lit  our 
lantern   and   set  about  exploring  tlie  darkness. 


In  .1  Tigcr'.i  Dm 


iqi 


On  either  wall  of  the  nntechnmlicr,  much  be- 
grimed by  smoke,  we  found  images,  in  bas- 
relief,  whicli  in  themselves  cr)nfut(.-d  tlie  \illage 
tradition  as  to  the  origin  of  the  caves.  The 
standing  tigure  between  two  attendants  was  evi- 
dently that  of  Buddha,  and  this  excavation  was  one 
of  the  cave  temples  of  the  old  Buddhist  monks. 
Ferguson,  in  his  "Cave  Temples  of  India,"  ex- 
plains how  the  old  monks,  in  their  desire  to  have 
a  place  of  worship  less  perishable  than  the 
wooden  structures  which  still  mark  the  shrines 
of  Buddha  in  other  parts  of  the  world,  and 
perhaps  with  an  idea  that  their  eternity  would 
equal  that  of  the  hills  themselves,  hewed  out  of 
the  living  rock  that  vast  system  of  caves,  that 
marks  the  ancestral  home  of  Buddhism  in 
Western  India.  The  alternating  hard  and  soft 
trap  formations  of  the  Vindhyas,  lying  in  hori- 
zontal layers,  favoured  this  design.  Bec'nning 
with  mere  cells  for  mendicants,  they  gradually 
enlarged  them  into  halls  for  assembly,  schools 
and  chapels  or  shrines.  We  were  now  standing 
in  the  antechamber  of  a  shrine,  and  pressing  on 
we  found  the  little  chamber  with  its  si'cred 
ddgoba.^     Like  the  greater  J.igobas  we  had  seen 

'  A  (Ugoba  is  a   cone-shaped  structure  erected  by  the  Bud- 
dhists over  .1  relic. 


n)i 


\'ill.i;,'c   Work   in   India 


in  Ceylon,  it  probably  had  once  contained  a  relic; 
and  on  searclunjj;  wc  found  near  tlie  top  tho 
empty  repository.  TI.l-  iiu_i;i)l\i  itself  was  about 
fourteen  feet  hi^'li,  and  ten  feet  in  diameter  at  tlie 
base,  with  an  octagonal  plinth,  supporting  a  live 
foot  dome  above. 

From  the  old  f.ikir  we  learned  that  there  were 
altogether  seven  of  these  caves  reaching  for  up- 
wards of  half  a  mile  along  the  hillside,  but  that 
the  other*^  were  mostly  broken  dovn,  and  had 
become  tiic  haunts  of  wild  beasts.  He  also 
warned  us  that  there  was  a  tiger  somewhere  in 
the  neighbourhood,  who  had  committed  many 
depredations  on  the  village  cattle. 

Returning  to  davlight,  we  examined  the  ex- 
terior of  tlie  ca\'e  more  carefully.  The  crazy 
fliuht  of  stone  steps  was  evidently  of  modern 
origin,  and  together  with  the  image  of  Gaupati 
carved  on  the  cave  front,  explained  to  us  the 
prese.ice  .ind  claim  of  the  s,u{hii.  Hinduism 
h.id  set  her  seal  on  the  shrine  of  Buddhism  and 
claimed  for  her  own  its  discarded  halls.  These 
caves,  that  once  rang  to  the  solemn  chant  of  the 
hvmns  of  Saky.miuni,  heard  nothing  now  but 
the  muttered  mantras  of  some  travelling  fakir, 
or  the  prayers  of  the  village  women. 

The  second  cave  was  smaller  than  tlie  tirst  and 


In  a  Titrcr's   Den 


»93 


unfinished;  the  third  had  evidentlv  at  one  time 
been  a  m.ij^miticent  h.ill  or  vihara,  but  on  ac- 
count nf  the  soft  nature  of  the  rock,  towards  its 
centre,  was  now  much  ruined.  It  was  about 
loo  feet  square,  its  roof  bcmti  supported  bv  forty 
pillars,  eight  nn  rach  face  and  tueUi'  fi)rniii'L(  an 
octagon  in  the  centre,  it  al>o  !iad  twenty-four 
cells,  a  shrine  and  a  ciLi^oha,  like  the  first  cave. 
But  its  most  striking  feature  was  its  beautiful 
fresco  painting,  covering  the  whole  roof  and 
four  feet  of  the  upper  portion  of  the  walls,  repre- 
senting intertwined  vegetable  patterns,  and  all 
seemingly  as  fresh  as  the  dav  it  was  put  on. 
There  had  been  figures  also  nii  the  lower  walls, 
but  they  were  now  much  defaced.  The  fourth 
cave,  opening  otT  the  same  verandah  as  number 
three,  was  a  long  plain  room,  with  two  rows  of 
pillars,  which,  it  is  surmised,  was  probably  in- 
tended for  a  iiharmsdla  or  rest-house  for  travel- 
ling monks. 

The  remaining  caves  Ferguson  describes  as 
"much  ruined  and  scarcelv  worth  detailed 
description."  Their  overhanging  verandah  had 
broken  down,  not  only  completelv  blocking  up 
the  platform,  but  hurling  tons  of  stone  from  the 
hilltop  above  into  the  defile  beneath.  It  was 
with  the  greatest  difficulty,  therefore,  we  made 


194 


VilLiiTf   Work   in   li.dia 


our  way  within  the  fallen  mass  along  the  hill 
front.  Sometimes  \vc  were  lighted  by  openings 
m  the  rock,  Init  ottener  we  were  in  complete 
darkness  and  compelled  to  use  the  lantern. 
Disturbed  bats  swished  p  ist  our  faces,  while  the 
timid  creatures,  whose  haunts  we  were  invading, 
scurried  away  at  our  approach.  That  the  caves 
were  seldom  visited  bv  man,  could  be  seen  by 
the  entire  lack  of  any  trace  in  th  pulverised 
excrement  that  formed  a  soft  carpet  beneath  our 

feet. 

As  we  approached  the  sixth  cave  we  found  it 
in  almost  impenetrable  darkness.  It  was  com- 
pletely broken  down,  and,  though  of  consider- 
able extent,  the  barrier  of  fallen  stones  prevented 
us  from  exploring  its  recesses.  It  had  however 
the  same  side  chambers  noted  in  the  other 
vihdras,  and  from  one  of  these  I  soon  heard 
Drew  calling:  "Oh,  here's  another  one,  bring  the 
light."  In  the  '\ick  of  the  chamber  was  a  small 
hole,  either  cit  or  broken  into  a  similar  chamber 
bevond.  Climbing  through,  the  lantern  revealed 
to  us  the  floor  strewn  with  excrement  and  large 
bones,  including  the  skulls  of  cattle.  Im- 
mediately there  recurred  to  us  the  fakir's  warn- 
ing, and  involuntarily  we  exclaimed,  "The 
tiger's  den!" 


In  :i  Tigers  Den  nj^ 

1  he  cj\e  beyond  was  so  broken  down  as  to 
be  hardly  recognisable;  not  oiily  the  platform 
without  but  the  whole  frmu  portion  of  the 
cave  was  blocked  with  tallen  stone,  leaving  but 
a  small  opening  to  the  outer  air,  some  ten  or 
fifteen  feet  above  in  tlie  side  of  the  hill.  By 
means  of  the  uncertain  light,  aided  by  our 
lantern,  we  examined  the  open  part  of  the  great 
cave,  but  not  venturing  too  far.  Like  the 
previous  ones  it  was  quite  in  ruins,  the  centre 
and  rear  portion  of  the  roof  having  fallen  in, 
leaving  great  cavernous  mouths  of  darkness 
gaping  out  at  us  from  between  the  huge  rocks. 
The  ground  of  the  clear  sp.ice  where  we  were 
standing,  was  strewn  with  bones;  on  one  side 
lay  almost  intact  the  skeleton  of  an  ox,  with  its 
shreds  of  meat  hardly  more  than  dry.  Before 
us,  at  the  entrance  to  a  large  hole,  the  rocks  were 
pawed  and  dirtied  as  with  the  rubbing  of  some 
large  animal,  and  that  unpleasant  od^jur  of  the 
feline  carnivora  filled  the  air. 

Our  presence  was  so  unpremeditated  that  at 
first  only  the  humour  of  the  position  struck  us 
and  we  were  inclined  to  joke,  calling  on  stripes 
to  come  out  and  show  himself.  But  suddenly 
something  struck  us;  we  raw  nothing,  we  heard 
no  cry,  but  that  straiige  feeling  came  over  us  as 


lyO 


ViUa^r   Work   in   Imlia 


when  some  unseen  presence  is  near;  then  il 
dawned  upon  us  what  would  happen  il,  from 
any  one  of  the  many  yawning  recesses  around 
us,  our  invitation  were  acccpteti,  especially  as 
we  were  armed  with  nothmi,^  more  than  a  walk- 
iiK'  stick  and  lantern;  the  wonders  of  the  cave 
immediately  lost  all  interest,  and  that  little  patch 
of  blue  up  above  us  developed  a  sudden  and 
irresistible  attraction. 

When  we  stood  down  below  in  the  jur';'le 
path,  the  bri<iht  sun  shining  overhead  a"v  ihe 
breath  coming  a  little  more  regularly,  1  bethought 
me  of  a  mcmcntu  (jf  the  cave  and  especially  a 
lather  tine  monkey  skull  !  had  noticed;  but 
strange  to  sav  no  one  seemed  willing  to  venture 
back  for  it;  1  have  no  doubt  it  is  to  be  found 

there  stiil. 

As  we  wended  our  way  back  to  camp  many 
thoughts  crowded  upon  me.  Nothing  could 
more  titlv  illustrate  the  folly  of  attempting  to 
immortalise  the  teachings  of  religion  by  monu- 
ments of  stone  than  these  caves  of  Bagh.  Hewn 
out,  i.soo  years  ago,  with  infinite  labour,  from  the 
hillside  to  eternise  the  worship  of  Buddha,  they 
were  now  the  haunts  of  wild  beasts,  and  asso- 
ciated with  religion  onlv  m  the  village  mmd.  and 
as  belonging  tu  a  rival  sect;  while  the  movement 


In  a  Tiircr's  Den 


'o; 


thjt  gave  them  on^iii  has  luri;^  agtj  been  furt;ot- 
teti  in  this,  the  land  of  its  birth.  The  employ- 
ment of  the  spectacular  and  ceremonial  has 
frequently  been  advocated  as  the  truest  means  of 
winninj;  India's  people  to  Christianity;  and  even 
among  missionaries  there  has  been  no  little  tend- 
ency to  monumentalise  our  religion  by  architec- 
tural display.  Christianity  in  India  can  never 
hope  to  rival  the  beautiful  structures  of  Moham- 
medanism and  Hinduism;  and  it  would  be  yield- 
ing to  a  fatal  principle  for  her  Xo  attempt  to  do 
so.  "God  is  Spirit,  and  they  that  worship  Him 
must  worship  Him  in  spirit  and  in  truth  ";  mav 
His  church  in  India  seek  her  monuments,  not  in 
piles  of  brick  and  stone,  but  in  a  living  temple 
in  the  hearts  of  the  people. 

In  the  history  of  Buddhism  one  cannot  look 
but  with  admiration  on  the  life  of  its  founder 
and  his  marvellous  spirit,  and  with  amazement 
on  its  sudden  decline,  especially  in  the  land  of  its 
birth.  However  this  may  be  due  to  its  atheism, 
its  fatal  compromises,  and  the  strength  of  its 
opponents,  M.  Barth  traces  it  to  the  decline  of 
missionary  zeal  and  the  monastic  selfishness  so 
well  authenticated  by  these  Bagh  caves.  Bud- 
dhism has  flourished  only  in  the  land  of  its 
missionary  effort;  the  successes   of  Mohamme- 


KjS 


N'ma-rc  Work   in   India 


danism  have  run  pjiallcl  to  its  spirit  of  aggres- 
sion;   and   in    the   history   of    Christianity   this 
principle  is  not  without  its  marked  illustrations. 
May  its  lesson  be  burned  into  the  heart  and  con- 
science of  the  Church  of  to-day-     Let  the  little 
Christian,  whose  narrow  horizon  is  limited  by 
the  spiritual  comfort  of  his  own  soul,  give  up 
his  monastic  seltishness,  and  rid  himself  of  the 
narrow,  parochial  view  of  Christian  effort;    let 
him  climb  the  mountain  top,  and,  standing  be- 
side those  who  have  caught  the  Christ  vision  of 
the  kingdom,  behold  its  --"'-oken  sweep  over 
every  kindred  and  tongue  a         ;ople  and  nation. 


XIII 


THE   SCHOOL   OK   THH    PROPHETS 


The  pivotal  factor  in  the  question  of  India's 
conversion  is  that  little  group  of  native  workers 
which  gathers  round  each  mission  station.  The 
missionary  may  be  the  guiding  hand  and  hold 
the  reins  of  power,  but  the  real  agency  is  the 
rank  and  tile  of  those  chosen  from  the  native 
Christians  for  spiritual  service.  They  are  not  per- 
fect, these  Indian  Christians,  the  intluence  of 
centuries  is  nut  to  L)e  destroyed  nor  their  evolu- 
tion accomplished  in  a  day;  but  considering  the 
pit  from  which  they  have  been  digged,  all  the 
cursed  heritage  of  idolatry,  with  its  impure  and 
degrading  observances,  the  social  restraints  of 
caste  and  the  terrible  slavery  of  custom,  the  con- 
verts of  India  are  a  modern  miracle.  It  is  the 
lack  nf  historical  imagination  and  sympathetic 
perspective  in  the  application  of  western  stand- 
ards, that  are  too  often  accountable  for  harsh 
judgments  concerning  the  Indian  Christian.  The 
very  characteristics  for  which  he  is  condemned 
are  not  infrequently  signs  of  his  changing  life. 

199 


200 


Villap;e  Work  in   India 


I"or  instance,  one  often  hears  the  Indian  f.hiistian 
charged  with  less  of  L.valty  in  giving  and  m 
church  observances  than  under  the  old  rehgious 
inlluences.  When  u.ie  considers  the  mot'  ^e  for 
religious  observances  in  Hinduism,  the  agonising 
fear  lest  one  duty  unperformed  should  imperil 
salvation,  he  must  rather  rejoice  in  the  evidence 
that  the  conquering  power  of  faith  has  broken 
the  shackles.  The  Christian  is  learning  a  new 
motive  for  giving  and  a  new  purpose  in  service; 
and  that  loyalty  to  Christ  will,  and  does  increase 
the  convert's  measure  of  giving,  no  one  ac- 
quainted with  the  facts  can  doubt.  A  census 
taken  recently  in  our  mission  showed  that  thir- 
teen per  cent,  of  the  native  Christians  were 
giving  their  tenth. 

One  is  not  confined  to  spiritual  comparisons  in 
esximating  the  character  of  India's  Christians. 
His  home,  its  cleanliness,  its  freedom  from  the 
lewd  in  act  and  conversation,  its  family  .vorship 
and  Christian  song,  his  freedom  from  -aste  prej- 
udices in  the  matter  of  neighbourliness  and  charity, 
his  thriftiness  and  exemption  from  e.xtravagances 
in  dress  and  feasts,  his  independence,  loyalty, 
sympathy  for  distress,  and  in  general  a  bearing 
which  demands  universal  respect,  all  testify  to 
the  development  in  him  of  a  new  life  and  char- 


The  School  of  the   Pro[)hets       20i 

acter.'  The  huli.ui  Soiial  Reformer,  a  Hindu 
paper,  after  bume  criticisms  on  missionaries, 
says:  "Even  in  the  matter  of  conversion  have 
Ihey  not  raised  the  Mahars  into  men  from  brutes, 
whom  we  with  all  our  talk  of  universal  brother- 
hood and  universal  sympathy  and  transcendental 
advaitism,  allowed  or  forced  to  dive  deeper  into 
the  mire  of  degradation  for  twenty  centuries?" 
With  all  their  imperfections,  the  Christians  of 
India  are  a  inagnihcent  tribute  to  the  power  of 
the  gospel,  and  tiiough  few  proportionately,  the 
promise  of  a  glorious  day  when  Christ  shall  rule 
in  the  hearts  uf  India's  people.  "Foolish"  they 
may  be,  "weak'  and  "despised."  but  it  is  from 
among  these  a  new  dynamic  is  being  chosen 
which  is  to  be  the  agency  in  establishing  the 
kingdom  of  God  in  India. 

it  was  only  an  ordinary  village  service,  such  as 
we  hold  six  or  seven  times  a  day  during  the  tour- 
ing season,  and  only  a  simple  village  audience, 
including  the  patel,  a  few  farmers,  Mjme  buUock- 


•  While  native  Christians  numlicr  only  sis  per  cent,  of  the 
population,  native  Christian  boys  firm  nearly  three  jier  cent. 
of  those  attending  school,  and  native  Christian  giils  supply 
twenty-nine  per  cent.  ;  that  is  to  say,  while  only  twelve  and 
five-tenths  per  cent,  of  the  whole  iinpulation  of  a  school  going 
age  attend  school,  the  Christians  show  an  attendance  of  thirty- 
five  per  cent. 


B 


202 


VilluLri-*   Work   in   Ituiia 


dnvcrs  frui'i  the  neighbouring  ruaJwjy.  and  the 
blacksmith  and  village  loungers,  seated  on  a 
broken  cart  across  the  way,  and  yet  it  was 
fraught  with  great  things  for  the  kingdom  of 
God  in  Nimar.  We  were  preaching  in  front  of 
the  low  roofed  shop  of  the  village  banya,  and, 
seated  on  a  corner  of  the  verandah,  beside  the 
row  of  gram  baskets,  was  a  si  ''ing  drum 
player.  He  was  an  insignilicant  looking  chap, 
rough,  ignorant,  uncouth  and,  as  I  afterwards 
learned,  a  heavy  drinker;  and  yet  it  was  this 
young  man  of  all  the  group  and  of  many  such 
audiences,  whom  the  Spirit  was  choosing  out  for 
future  service.  Like  most  Hindus  he  had  be- 
neath that  uncouth  exterior  his  re'igious  long- 
ings; and  this  teaching,  though  froiv,  strange  lips 
and  of  an  alien  religion,  had  even  at  this  tirst 
hearing  a  wonderfully  attractive  message.  The 
two  things  that  win  the  sympathy  of  the  Hindu 
for  the  teaching  of  Jesus  are  the  escape  it  offers 
from  the  endless  wheel  of  self-etTort  and  re- 
births, and  the  assurance  it  gives  of  complete 
salvation.  This  young  man  had  a  Christian  rela- 
tive, and  through  him  he  learned  -'re  of  the 
New  Way  and  was  brought  in  touch  with  our 
Christian  evangelists  at  Barwai. 
About  three  months  after  his  baptism,  which 


The  School  ot  rhe   I'ro[)hcts       20"^ 

followed  in  due  course,  1  was  paying  my  monthly 
visit  to  B:irwai;  when  at  the  close  of  the  service 
the    new    convert    came    forward    to    see    tne. 

"  P.idri  Sahib."  he  said,  "l  want  to  learn  to 
read." 

"Very  good,'  1  replied,  "  have  you  ever  been 
to  school .''  ' 

"Nay  Ji." 

"  Do  you  know  your  letters  ?" 

"Nay  .Sahib." 

"Well,  what  do  you  want  to  learn  to  read 
for  ?  "  I  enquired. 

"Oh  Ji,"  he  answered,  with  an  earnestness 
only  born  of  a  soul  on  tire,  "  '  want  to  be  able  to 
read  the  Christian  SliJsifd  for  myself  and  to  my 
caste  people." 

"  But  see,  brother,"  I  said,  "  you  are  a  married 
man,  you  have  the  responsibilities  of  a  home, 
you  have  your  vvork  and  you  do  not  even  know 
your  letters.  It  will  be  very  difficult  for  you  to 
learn  to  read." 

"  Padr:  Sahib,"  he  replied,  "the  seed  doth  not 
yield  Its  oil  to  him  who  refuses  to  labour;  1  will 
bear  the  burde^  but  I  want  to  learn  to  read." 

I  did  not  wish  to  discourage  him  altogether, 
and  vet  I  (.  d  already  found  him  to  be  a  young 
man  w'th  a  fair  opinion  of  himself  and  1  was 


204 


Villa<:c  Work  in   India 


unwilling  to  make  the  wjy  easy  tor  him;  so  I 
replied,  ••  Hut  tliere  is  no  school  down  here,  you 
would  require  to  come  to  Mhow  and  there  enter 
the  alphabet  class  with  the  boys  of  four  and  live. 
You  know  what  the  village  people  will  say  about 
your  going  to  live  in  Mhow,  and  how  every  one 
will  laugh  at  seeing  you  in  the  baby  class." 

"The  bullocks  would  not  travel  far,"  he  re- 
plied, "if  they  listened  to  every  squeak  of  the 
cart  wheels;  1  am  not  afraid  of  what  men  will 
say,  Sahib;  1  want  to  learn  to  read." 

Such  pleading  was  not  to  be  withstood;  the 
drum  player  came  to  Mhow  and  started  school,  a 
friend  in  the  meantime  helping  him  with  his 
food.  He  went  into  the  alphabet  class  with  the 
small  boys,  sitting  on  their  low  bench  with  his 
knees  almost  to  his  chin:  and  there  he  struggled 
till  the  letters  w  ere  conquered.  He  never  once 
complained,  but  set  himself  determinedly  to  learn 
to  read.  His  books  seemed  never  out  of  his 
hand;  many  a  time  have  1  passed  his  hut  late  at 
night,  when  the  rest  of  the  men  were  in  their 
beds,  and  seen  his  little  lamp  burning,  while  the 
raw  student  pored  over  his  lessons.  The  Bible 
was  his  library,  and  he  read  it  with  such  avidity 
and  gained  such  a  knowledge  of  its  contents,  as 
appeared    to   me   incredible   under   the   circum- 


llic   School   ot"  the    I'roplMts        20C 

stances.  He  soon  began  to  t.ike  .1  p.iit  in  the 
work,  teaching  a  class  in  the  Sunday-school  and 
accompanying  the  evangelists  to  the  bazaar. 
Later  he  joined  the  Presbytery's  classes,  and 
within  two  years  of  his  coming  to  Mhow,  passed 
successfully  a  written  examination  in  the  four 
gospels.  Genesis,  Exodus,  part  of  the  Shorter 
Catechism  and  some  controversial  books  on  Hin- 
duism, and  with  such  satisfaction  to  the  teachers 
as  to  be  awarded  a  prize. 

In  the  little  groups  that  travel  from  town  to 
town,  preaching  the  news  of  the  Kingdom,  in 
the  village  schools  and  chapels  that  dot  many  a 
hillside  and  lighten  many  a  vallev  in  India,  there 
are  hundreds  whose  history  would  relate  some 
similar  story.  From  such  material  are  we  build- 
ing up  India's  lighting  force.  U'ith  the  peculiar 
character  of  the  language  of  India,  a  people  that 
think  in  metaphors,  and  whose  intellectual  and 
spiritual  nature  is  coloured  with  the  subtle,  pan- 
theistic teachings  that  have  come  down  to  them 
from  hoary  ages,  so  that  even  the  corresponding 
terms  which  are  to  convey  to  them  our  spiritual 
truths  have  to  be  endowed  v/ith  new  content,  the 
mouthpiece  and  exponent  of  Christianity  to  the 
masses  must  naturally  be  the  children  of  the  soil. 
Wise  therefore  is  that  missionary,  whatever  his 


2o6 


Vilhiar  Work  in    India 


method  of  service,  who.  reaUsing  his  own  limita- 
tions, and  that  the  veil  of  a  foreign  ton^^uc  and 
environment  will  never  be  fully  removed,  sur- 
rounds himself  with  a  body  of  faithful  disciples, 
whom  he  shall  instruct  and  cherish,  to  whom  he 
shall  lend  his  inspiration,  and  who  shall  become 
in  the  power  and  fullness  of  the  Spirit  his  hands, 
feet  and  mouthpiece,  in  bringing  India's  people 
into  vital  contact  with  Jesus  Christ. 
V     From  time  irnmemo-'.al  it  has  been  the  custom 
of  India's  giinl  (teacher)  to  gather  round  him  a 
body  of  disciples,  whom  he  instructs  in  the  sacred 
books    and   the   doctrines   peculiar  to   his   cult. 
Sometimes  they  accompany  him  in  his  pilgrim- 
ages from  shrine  to  shrine,  Ustening  to  the  wis- 
dom   that    falls  from  hi>^   lips,  and  learnin,^  the 
duties  of  their  calling  as  holy  men;    again  he 
m.iv  .ibide  in  ...c  temple  at  home,  and  send  th     ' 
out  to  gather  alms  or  leach  the  doctrines  of  their 
faith.     Moreover  it  was  the  custom  of  a  greater 
teacher  than  ever  trod  the  plains  of  India  to  give 
much  of  His  time  to  the  training  of  a  little  b.md 
of  followers,  who  were  to  take  up  His  message 
when  He  was  gone,  and  carry  it  to  the  ends  of 
the  earth.     May  it  not  be  that  a  wise  Providence 
has  so  ordered  it,  that  at  the  beginning  of  our 
work,  it  must  of  necessity  be  the  same  with  the 


■'^t'^lf 


The  School  of  the  Prophets       207 


I 


missionarv  r  The  demands  are  50  great,  the 
labourers  so  few,  we  have  been  obliiicd  to  take 
raw  villagers,  without  the  barest  rudiments  of 
education,  or  young  lads  from  the  Christian 
schools,  and  shape  them  as  best  we  could,  while 
they  laboured,  into  p-eachers  and  teachers.  And 
considering  how  foreign  not  only  the  doctrines 
but  especially  the  ethics  of  Christianity  are  to  the 
Hindu  mind,  this  need  of  continual  personal  con- 
tact between  master  and  disciple  is  greatly  em- 
phasised. Western  methods  and  western  insti- 
tutions, with  their  reliance  upon  so  large  a  body 
of  e.xtraneous  influences,  do  not  meet  the  case. 
We  are  without  the  spiritual  atmosphere  in  the 
East  that  surrounds  the  applicant  for  spiritual 
service  in  tiie  West,  both  within  and  without  the 
home.  The  niission.iry  must  be  the  constant 
companion  of,  influencing  bv  his  every  word  and 
action  the  little  band  of  helpers  he  has  gathered 
round  him. 

And  so,  as  we  journey  from  village  to  village, 
treading  the  dusty  highroad  or  making  our  way 
through  the  tields  of  grain,  seated  by  the  well 
side  or  in  the  restful  shadow  of  some  mango 
grove,  it  is  our  custom  to  t.ilk  to  these  Christian 
companions  of  th*"  things  of  the  Kingdom,  and 
to  draw  from  Hower  and  field,   river  and  moun- 


208 


Villaire   Work   in   India 


tainside,  as  wcil  as  the  scenes  of  the  market- 
place, the  lessons  of  the  evangel.  Then  e\ery 
afternoon,  when  we  rest  from  our  mornino  la- 
bours, and  before  the  new  work  of  the  declining 
day  br  ;ins,  the  Book  is  brought  out  and  a  lesson 
is  taken  from  the  lips  of  our  Lord  Himself.  We 
usually  pursue  in  these  lessons  some  course  of 
study,  such  as  the  parables,  the  sayings  of  Christ, 
or  one  of  the  gospels.  Again  this  class  in  the 
district  is  continued,  as  far  as  possible,  when  we 
return  at  the  close  of  the  touring  season  to  the 
station.  Once  a  month  the  men  are  gathered  in 
from  the  outstations  and  a  day  or  two  spent  in 
hearing  reports,  especially  of  enquirers,  holding 
them  up  in  prayer  before  the  Throne,  dealing 
with  anv  difficulties  that  may  have  arisen  during 
the  month,  and  in  Bible  study.  During  the  mis- 
sionary's visit  to  the  outstation  a  similar  course  is 
pursued,  onlv  all  Christians,  as  well  as  any  non- 
Christian  friends  who  may  wish,  are  present. 

There  are  three  months  in  the  year  during  the 
rainy  season  when  village  work,  on  account  of 
the  state  of  the  roads,  is  practically  impossible, 
except  for  a  limited  section  round  each  station, 
it  was  the  practice  in  our  Mission,  for  years,  that 
c.ich  missionary  should  gather  all  his  workers 
round    him   for  these  monihs  and  give  them  a 


The  School  of  the  Prophets       209 


i 


course  of  study,  as  set  by  the  Presbytery,  and  in 
which  thev  were  examined  froni  year  to  year  by 
a  Presbytery  committee.  In  the  year  '04  two  of 
our  missionaries  carried  on  the  1; ■^tructlon  of 
their  workers  together,  and  the  following  year  it 
was  decided  by  the  Presbytery  to  establish  regu- 
lar classes  lor  Bible  training,  with  a  view  to  pre- 
paring men  for  the  ministry,  two  members  being 
appointed  from  ^-ar  to  year  to  conduct  them. 
The  lectures  are  all  given  in  Hindi,  and  comprise 
a  course  of  four  years  in  Biblical  Theology,  Sys- 
tematic Theology,  Exegesis,  Introduction,  Church 
History,  Homiletics  and  Comparative  Religion. 
Examinations  are  held  at  the  close  of  the  classes, 
prizes  awarded  and  standing  granted  by  Presby- 
tery. Already  several  men  have  completed  their 
course  and  one  been  ordained  to  a  congregati  ^n. 
Doubtless  it  is  a  far  hail  from  this  primitively 
trained  evangelist  of  the  East  to  the  college  bred 
man  of  the  West.  But  no  little  history  mu.st  in- 
tervene before  the  village  preachers  of  India 
can  be  expected  to  overtake  the  severe  English 
curriculum  which  the  university  course  at  pres- 
ent lays  down.  It  will  be  many  years  before  the 
supply  of  labourers  gets  within  such  reasonable 
distance  of  the  demand  that  men  can  be  spared 
for  so  long  a  training  or  we  can  be  dependent  on 


210 


Vill         Work   in   India 


the  limited  number  who  succeed;  the  financial 
condition  of  the  larger  portion  of  our  Christian 
coinmunitv  must  improve  before  the  expense  of 
such  a  training  can  be  borne;  and  there  must  be 
a  consideranlo  change,  either  in  the  ability  of  our 
village  congregations  to  pay,  or  the  salary  a  col- 
lege gradual-  is  accustomed  to  receive,  before 
they  come  within  sight  of  one  another.  Mean- 
while let  us  not  make  haste.  V 

But  whither  is  all  this  tending  ?    Men  are  being 
ordained  and  placed  over  congregations;  presby- 
teries, synoas  and  conferences  are  being  formed; 
traditions  as  to  creed  and  church  government  are 
being    taught;    and    unconsciously   perhaps   the 
sectarianism  of  the  West  is  being  reproduced  in 
the  Hast.     Not  that  there  is  sectaiian  ambition 
among  the  missionaries  of  India,  for  the  law  of 
comity  is  well  observed,  and  no  little  cooperation 
carried  out.     Nor  has  sectarianism  seized  as  yet 
on  the  genius  of  the  Christian  community,  as  is 
seen  bv  the  freedom  with  which  they  pass  from 
the  missions  of  one  denomination  to  those  of  an- 
other.    But  we  missionaries  see  the  problems  of 
the  Hast  too  much  in  the  categories  of  the  West. 
Unconsciously  we  view  her  peoples  in  the  light 
of  our  own  religious  history.     We  forget  God's 
purpose  for  India  has  as  much  of  continuity  as 


The   School  of  the    Propht-ts        211 

for  either  Europe  or  America,  and  that  we  are 
but  a  temporary  factor  in  the  fultiHnicin  ot  this 
purpose.  The  clement  we  supply  is  the  witness 
to  Jesus  Christ.  Once  Christianised,  the  problem 
of  the  Church's  form  and  safeguards  to  the  min- 
istry, if  sucli  be  thought  necessary,  can  w dl  be 
left  to  the  body  of  Christ  in  India  under  the 
guidance  of  the  Huly  Ghost.  That  the  genius  of 
Indian  Christianity  will  differ  from  that  of  the 
West  is  only  to  be  expected  from  the  differences 
between  the  peoples  themselves.  While  the 
Christianity  of  the  West  shines  in  the  more  a^ive 
virtues  of  love,  fervency  and  zeal,  that  of  India 
will  be  marked  by  a  predominance  of  the  passive 
Virtues  of  long-suffering,  temperance  and  pa- 
tience. Not  only  so,  but  Indian  Christianity  will 
doubtless  colour  and  enrich  with  her  peculiar  life 
and  teaching  the  Christian  ideal  and  body  of 
Christian  doctrine  throughout  the  world.  But 
whatever  be  the  purpose  of  the  spirit  for  the 
Church  in  India  towards  the  whole  body  of 
Christ,  care  must  be  taken  that  it  be  not  thwarted 
by  any  imposition  from  without. 

Not  less  important  than  their  service  as  a 
dynamic  in  the  preaching  of  the  gospel  to  their 
fellow-countrymen,  these  Christian  teachers  and 
evangelists,  in  the  very  furtherance  of  their  call- 


212  Village  Work   in   India 

ing,  are  gradually  filling  tlic  niiiids  ol  India's  peo- 
ple with  a  new  idea!  ut  tlie  true  "holy  man." 
Too  long  has  the  vagrant  sadhu  with  his  ques- 
tionable morality  and  absurd  appeals  to  super- 
stition, tilled  up  their  rehgious  horizon,  it  will 
require  I'len  ot  another  class  and  developed  upon 
a  new  ideal,  men  with  more  ut  the  flavour  of 
sanctity  and  more  of  the  stamp  ut"  the  divine, 
to  awaken  India  to  a  realisation  of  her  religious 
needs  and  accomplish  the  spiritual  redemption  of 

her  people. 

During  one  of  our  monthly  visits  to  Barwai  we 
found  encamped  there  an  assemblage  of  some 
700    ^adUiis     or    holy  men.      This    remarkable 
group  quite  tilled  the  square  beside  the  temples, 
overtlowin,^  the  roadway  into  the  vacant  field 
beyond,   some    even    being    forced    across  the 
dirty,  evil-smelling  stream  to  spread  their  mats 
on  the  bank  beyond.     A  few  were  housed  in  the 
temples;    quite   a   number  bad   large   umbrellas 
which  served  for  tents;  but  most  had  their  un- 
protected bedding  spread  out  on  the  bare  ground. 
They  were  a  motley   crowd,   some  in  flowing 
saffron,  others  in  dirty  white,  but  most  clad  in 
ashes  and  a  loin-cloth ;  long  matted  hair,  bleached 
to  the  colour  of  tow.  hung  in  scraggy  cords 
about  their  shoulders,  or  was  gathered  in  great 


'I'lic   Sciioul   ot"  the    Pii){)iicta        213 


i 


coarse  knots  above  their  heads;  white  teeth  and 
sleepy  ,iiiiiija  bleared  eyes  looked  out  with  a 
strange  mixture  of  sensuality  and  cunning  from 
pale  ash-snieaicd  faces.  Some  strutted  about, 
fingering  their  heav\'  dundas  (staffs),  or  rattling 
their  iron  ihiinta  (tongsj;  others  were  bringing 
water  in  their  gourd  vessels  preparatory  tu  the 
evening  meal;  while  not  a  few  were  at  their 
devotions,  muttering  mantras  to  their  dull-like 
deviis  spread  out  on  cushion  thrones,  or  chanting 
in  strange  gabbling  tones  from  the  sacred  books. 
Here  also  could  be  seen  the  religious  montebanks, 
the  man  with  a  withered  arm,  the  ascetic  whose 
couch  was  a  bed  of  upturned  nails,  and  men 
with  pierced  cheeks  and  hook-scarred  backs. 
And  yet  these  were  India's  "Holy  men,"  their 
inspiration  in  character  and  leaders  in  re- 
ligious thought.  That  they  had  power  was  in- 
dicated by  the  lact  that,  unsolicited,  the  people 
of  the  village  gave,  not  only  their  richest  food, 
but  even  ,i^dii/a  to  minister  to  their  lust,  at  the 
rate,  !  'as  told,  of  eight  annas  a  piece  daily,  or 
three  times  the  wage  of  an  average  villager. 

Unconsciously  I  turned  from  this  grotesque 
and  hypocritical  sight  to  my  companions.  They 
were  men  taken  from  lower  ranks  in  society 
than  these,    men   of  like  passions  and  desires; 


214 


Village  Work,   in  India 


they  too  had  their  failings  and  their  faults,  they 
were  still  children  and  very  i  luch  in  need  of 
guidance  and  help.  But  there  was  all  the  dif- 
ference between  night  and  day  in  their  char- 
acters, their  aspirations,  and  the  power  that 
moved  in  tlicir  lives,  it  has  sometimes  been 
suggested  that  the  Christian  preacher  should 
model  his  life  upon  that  of  the  sdJhii  and  adopt 
his  ascetic  life  and  garb.  But  this  quite  mistakes 
the  spirit  both  of  present  day  sadhuism  and  of 
Christianity.  Whatever  of  admiration  we  may 
have  to  spare  for  asceticism,  and  we  cannot  but 
acknowledge  that  it  ii.is  been  a  failure  as  a 
power  in  Christianity,  it  must  be  remembered 
that  both  sadhuism  and  the  priesthood  in  India 
to-day  have  degenerated  into  an  occupation,  and 
are  looked  upon  merely  as  a  means  of  livelihood. 
It  is  not  an  ascetic  cajoling  with  the  superstitions 
of  the  people,  but  a  prophet,  tilled  with  God's 
message  and  fired  by  His  Spirit,  that  must  be  the 
apostle  of  Christianity.  The  native  Christian 
preacher  is  still  in  his  infancy,  he  has  his  limita- 
tions and  probably  for  years  to  come  he  will 
require  the  help  and  counsel  of  his  brother  of  the 
West;  but  he  is  fashioned  after  God's  pattern, 
his  lips  have  been  touched  by  the  coals  off  God's 
altar,  and  the  day  is  not  far  distant  when,  as 


H 


t 


l"h(j   Schoijl   c)t   the    l-'ioplutri        21  c 

light  dispels  the  darkness,  he  will  drive  out 
from  the  horizon  of  his  countrymen  their  ancient 
ideal,  the  ash-clad  fakir. 

A  few  days  later  we  met  some  of  this  sju'fiu 
host  at  the  island  of  Mandatta  in  the  Nerbudda, 
where  Unkdr]i,  the  phallic  emblem  of  Mdhdhev, 
(Shiv)   holds   spiritual  sway  over  the  valley  of 
Nimar.     Here  gather  crowds  of  pilgrims  every 
year,  and  with  them,  like  eagles  to  their  prey, 
the  sdJhiis.     The  island,  on  which  the  shrine  is 
situated,  rises  high  and  rocky  out  of  the  midst  of 
the  Nerbudd-j,   its    rugged    sides   clothed  with 
dense  jungle,  within  whose  depths  the  ruins  of 
many  an  old  and  once  famous  temple  may  still 
be  found.     The  south   face  however  is  terraced 
with  buildings  clustering  round  the  great  tem- 
ple: while,  crowning  the  crag  above,  hangs  the 
fairy  palace  of  the  island's  prince.     The  morning 
after  our  arrival  we  crossed  to  visit  the  shrine. 
The  ferryman  viewed  us  strangely  as  he  sculled 
US    across    the   deep   rushing   stream;    and   the 
image    sellers   regarded   us  suspiciously   as   we 
climbed  the  steps  from  the  water  side;  but  no 
one    ventured    to    forbid   our   progress   till   we 
entered  the  temple  gateway.     Suddenly  one  of 
the  sdJhu^,  with  long  unkempt  hair  and  fierce 
blood-shot     eyes,    rushed     wildly     before     us, 


2l6 


Vilhiiic  Work   in   India 


brandishing  his  heavy   knotted  stick  as   if    he 
would  smite  us  to  the  stones  beneath. 

"Come  not  hither,"  he  cried,  "the  courts  of 
Unkdrjt,  Lord  of  the  sacred  waters,  have  never 
been  detiled  by  the  tread  uf  the  unclean." 

'•Art' .'  bruiher,"  1  said,  "  we  are  not  going  to 
hurt  the  god." 

"Go  back,"  he  cried,  "your  feet  deiile  the 
temple  of  the  great  MahdJev." 

"What  is  wrong  with  us?"     I  asked.     "How 
can  our  presence  defile  the  god  P"     i  ji  he  was 
not  to  be   argued  with.     To  him  we  were  for- 
eigners, without  the  pale  of  Hinduism,  and  their 
god  had  nothing  for  us  but  hatred.     We  might 
be  good  and  kind,  we  might  be  bearing  a  gospel 
of  love,  but  we  were  "  outcastes,"  and  even  our 
touch   was    unclean.     And    as    for    the    native 
Christians,    who     accompanied    us,    he    would 
gladly   have    sacrificed   them    upon   the   temple 
altar;  for  had  they  not  forsaken  the  gods  of  their 
fathers  to  follow  the  doctrine  of  strangers  ?    By 
this  time  a  number  of  others,  just  as  fierce  and 
bigoted  as  himself,  had  gathered  round,  and  the 
row  was  promising  to  be  not  only  unpleasant 
but  dangerous,  when  a  friendly  fakir  came  up 
and   whispered    that    he   would    show    us    the 
temple  from  anothej   w;!y.     We  had  no  desire 


i 

i 

! 

i 

i 


The  School  of  the   I'rophcts       2  i  7 

to  enter  its  precincts  it  we  were  not  wMiiteJ,  so 
we  K'l.idly  turned  and  accompanied  our  guide. 
He  led  us  round  to  the  north  of  the  temple  and 
up  a  narrow  stairway  which  opened  out  onto  a 
broad,  flat  roof,  looking  right  into  the  windows 
of  the  prince's  palace  above,  and  presenting  a 
lovely  view  of  the  busy  river  scene  below. 

"  This,"  he  said,  "  is  the  roof  of  the  temple  and 
below  that,"  pointing  to  a  small  dome  in  the 
centre  of  whose  floor  was  a  tiny  hole  for  offer- 
ings, "is  the  shrine  of  the  god." 

It  turned  out  that  to  this  part  of  the  temple 
"outcastes"  might  be  admitted.  So,  standing 
over  the  place  of  the  god,  I  gathered  the  Chris- 
tians round  me  and  talked  to  them  of  Jesus,  the 
Saviour  not  of  one  race  but  of  the  world,  whose 
presence  was  barred  to  no  one,  and  whose 
temple  only  the  touch  of  sin  could  defile. 
"They  refused  you  permission  to  stand  beside 
the  god,"  I  said,  "but  here  you  stand  above  hiin 
and  his  fanatical  attendants,  where  Christ's  fol- 
lowers ought  to  stand,  and  where  you  finally 
will  stand,  when  gods  and  temples  and  ash-clad 
fakirs  will  be  done  away  and  every  tongue  con- 
fess that  He  is  Lord." 


XIV 


WHEN  SKIES  ARE   BRASS 

A  HUSH  \v.is  over  the  land.     U   was   not   the 
hush  of  rest  at  noonday,  when  one  can  almost 
hear  the  silent,  solemn  set  of  day;  nor  the  hush 
of  sleep  at  midnight,  when  the   villa-e  life  has 
paused    and    every    sound    seems    melted   into 
solemn   moonlight;    but    that  awful  hush,   the 
hush  of  death.     !t  seemed  as  though  nature  itself 
were  dead  in  the  valley  of  Nimar.     The  /oudr 
had  struggled  upward,  on,'    to  sicken  and  wither 
before  coming  to   maturity;    the   cotton   leaves 
were  shrivelled  and  dead;  the  ^treams  had  long 
since  ceased  to  tlow;  the  wells  were  failing  and 
the  thirsty  cane  and  poppv,  spite  of  added  care, 
had  given  up  the  struggle.     Every  herb,  every 
blade  of  grass  was  dead ;  the  poor  farm  labourers, 
all  else  failing,  had  scouted  every  hedgerow  and 
hillside  to  pluck  up  the  half  burned  grass  and 
save   their    few   remaining   cattle,   or  sell   it   at 
enhanced  price  to  those  who  could  afford  to  pay. 
The  lields  were  empty,  for  there  was  nothing  to 

2j8 


t    the 
Imost 
hush 
t*  has 
into 
,    the 
itself 
ozicir 
ither 
;aves 
long 
and 
care, 
very 
rers, 
and 
and 
:t    at 
pay. 
gto 


s 


-  y. 


r  V. 


v. 


y. 


WIk.1  Skies  arc  Brass 


219 


-  y. 


—  v. 


X. 


y. 


harvest;  and  there  was  no  use  plantinf;  serd,  for 
the  ground  was  hard  and  drv  and  refused  to 
conceive. 

Even  the  banyan  and  mango-trees,  those  old 
patriarchs,  whose  leaves  were  made  to  buffet 
sunshine,  and  which  had  learned  thu  lessons 
of  many  a  drouth,  were  beginning  to  shrink 
and  shed  their  leaves  beneath  the  untempered 
glare;  and  the  tough  babuls,  whose  roots 
reached  down  through  rock  and  clay,  finding 
sustenance  where  all  else  failed,  were  little  now 
but  dust  clad  bunches  of  thorns.  Nothing  re- 
mained but  the  soil,  pitiful  and  bare,  staring  up- 
wards, with  its  alternating  yellow  and  dull-baked 
black,  into  the  pitiless  blue.  It  was  a  dreary, 
soul-sickening  s'ght,  this  once  garden  of  India, 
wont  to  smile  to  nature's  faintest  caress,  that  far 
;.s  history  reached  had  never  before  looked  upon 
the  face  of  famine,  but  now,  stripped  of  her 
robes  of  green,  despoiled  of  her  jewels  ot  lake 
and  stream,  naked  and  bare,  was  Ivin,^  slain  by 
her  lord  the  sun. 

Out  in  front  of  the  tent  at  Barwai.  whither  we 
had  gone  on  the  first  outl  reak  of  severe  distress, 
there  greeted  us  as  we  arose  on  the  first  morning 
a  pitiful  sight.  The  great  plain  beside  the  town 
was  covered  with  scattered  groups  of  famine  ref- 


220 


Villasr  Work  in  India 


ugees    all  ragged,  haggard  and  hungry.     Some 
of  the  more  fortunate  few  were  huddled  expect- 
antly round  tiny  hres.  on  which  simmered  an 
unsavoury  mess  of  grains,  picked  up  in  the  road- 
ways of  the  neighbouring  bazaars,  or  flour  gath- 
ered in  tiny  doles  from  the/);r;;-seeking  bunyas; 
others,  fearful  to  face  the  awakening  cravings  of 
a  new  day.  or  subdued  to  lethargy  by  hunger 
and  disease,  lay  stretched  upon  the  bare  ground, 
their  bent  and  naked  bodies,  showing  in  clear 
escarpment  the  skeleton  frames  beneath,  looking 
in  the  distance  liKe  blackened,  fallen  tree  trunks; 
but  most  sat  sphinx-like,  their  knees  drawn  up 
and  fleshless  faces  pillared  on  bony  hands,  sta- 
ring with  that  vacart  hopeless  glassy  vision  into 
the  dreaded  depths  of  the  awful  fate  that  too 
surely  awaited  them. 

"Whore  did  vou  come  from,  brothers?"  I 
asked  as  we  approached  a  group  on  the  northern 

side  of  the  plain. 

"From  Rajputana,"  they  listlessly  replied,  too 
far  gone  for  almost  any  new  event  to  shoot  a 
•■av  of  hope  across  their  horizon. 

"  '^nd  why  did  you  leave  your  northern 
homes?"    1  further   questioned. 

"What  could  we  do,  Padri  Sahib  ?  Our  fields 
were  bare,  our  cattle  dead,  our  food  was  gone 


vVhen  Skies  arc   Brass 


221 


I 


and  our  wells  were  dry.  There  was  nothing  left 
for  us  but  to  flee." 

i  did  not  require  to  ask  for  details,  too  well 
had  the  sad  story  been  burned  into  our  un- 
derstandings:—the  slowly  wilting  crops,  the 
anxious  wait  for  rain;  day  after  day  passes  and 
still  the  hard  brassy  sky,  the  same  pitiless  sun 
staring  out  of  the  same  pitiless  blue;  work  fails, 
the  little  competence  disappears,  the  wife's 
jewels  are  sold,  the  cattle  are  either  dead  or  bar- 
tereu  for  grain,  the  farm  implements  disappear 
one  by  one,  the  few  furnishings  of  the  home 
follow,  even  the  household  gods  go  to  purchase 
a  few  meals;  and  then  when  there  is  no  one 
from  whom  to  borrow  and  nothing  that  can  be 
loaned,  when  the  door  frame  has  been  torn  out 
and  the  roof  stripped  to  provide  a  little  flour, 
when  even  the  roots  of  the  trees  have  been 
vainly  called  on  to  stop  hunger's  craving,  home- 
less, naked  and  hungry,  they  stagger  out  onto 
the  highway  to  join  the  stream  that,  caught  by 
some  distant  rumour  of  plenty,  is  staggering  for- 
ward on  its  forlorn  hope. 

"  And  why  did  you  come  South  ?"  1  asked. 

"We  always  heard,  Sahil\"  they  replied,  "that 
down  in  Malwa  and  Nimar  there  was  plenty." 

"  And  h.ive  you  found  help  .""  I  continued. 


222 


Village  Work   in   India 


•■When  we  left  Marwar."  answered  a  middle 
npea  man.  "  some  had  carts  and  bullocks,  some 
had  their  IwIjjis  (vessels),  all  had  something, 
but  now  vou  see,  waving  his  hands  towards  the 
group,  all  is  gone,  sold  tor  food;  the  people  heie 
are  just  as  poor  as  ourselves." 

What  is  more  terrible  than  famine  ?    It  is  not 
sudden  and  cataclysmic  like  a  great  holocaust  or 
war,  but  gradual  and  glacial;  with  its  slow,  per- 
sistent, irresistible  tread,  it  is  like  a  horrible  dis- 
ease whose  agony  is  cumulative;  it  wastes     ;  d 
weakens,  devours  and  destroys,  but  hesitates  to 
kill.     Its    sufferings    are    not    merely    physical, 
much  of  its  agony  is  anticipatory;   the  terrible 
struggle  for  life  that  does  not  avail,  the  fading 
hope,  the  growing  uncertainty  and  dread.     To 
some'  at  least  itf,  hardest  blows  must  have  been 
through  the  atTections  and  sympathies;  the  awful 
agony  of   seeing   those   one   loves  treading  the 
same  dread  pathwav.     There  were  no  old  folks 
among  the  wanderers  and  few  little  ones;  of  all 
that  we  saw  nothing  was  more  terrible  than  the 
sight  of  a  few  infants,  too  weak  to  cry,  sucking 
vainlv  at  their  mothers'  dried  breasts. 

'•What  are  you  going  to  do?"  I  asked,  fori 
had  observed  the  village  police  leaving  as  we  ap- 
proached. 


When  Skies  are  Brass 


223 


"We  can't  stay  here,  Sahib,  the  Hdvihidr 
(police  officer)  has  just  come  to  tell  us  that,  as 
we  have  been  here  for  a  day,  we  must  move  on 
to  make  room  for  others." 

"  But  where  will  you  go  ? "  I  persisted. 

"Where  can  we  go,  Ji  ?  We  will  just  go  on 
as  we  have  been  going." 

Leaving  these,  we  approached  a  group  on  the 
other  side  of  the  plain.     They  were  from  Kan- 
desh  on  the  south,  and,  attracted  by  the  fame  of 
this  garden  of  Nimar,  had  wandered  thither,  full 
of  hope  that  here  they  would  find  relief;  only  to 
find,  alas!  on  its  very  border,  that  the  people  of 
the  "  Promised  Land  "  itself  were  naked  and  hun- 
gry.    They  too  had  received  the  warning  of  their 
fellow-sufferers  from  the  north,  and  were  forced 
to  mo/e  on.     But  unlike  them  they  knew  the 
hopelessness  of  that   dread  road  to  the  south, 
and  if  there  was  want  in  front  they  would  at  least 
face  it  with  the  faint  hope  of  ignorance.     And 
so,  obedient  to  the  orders  of  the  Hdvilddr,  they 
moved    on.     But    whither.?    God    only    knew. 
They  were    like    two  rivers  flowing   into  the 
desert;  no  sudden  catastrophe  would  work  their 
ruin,  they  would   melt   by  units   and   gradually 
disappear— one  died  before  they  were  .iMe  to  get 
away. 


224  Village  Work   in   India 

One   must  not  ]udiic  too  harshly  the  scanty 
hospitality  of   the   native   states;    the   hearts  of 
India's  people,  though  one  of  her  chief  religious 
duties  is  alms-giving,  has  not  yet  learned  to  beat 
in  sympathy  with  her  brother's  needs.     Some  of 
them  did  give  help  to  the  stranger  within  their 
gates,  but  with  an  ever-increasing  burden   of 
suffering  among  their  own,  perhaps  it  was  not 
to  be  wondered  at  that  they  did  little  for  those 
from  without.     'When  the  facts  were  lai  J  before 
the  British  authorities,  provision  was  made  for 
all  of  these  wanderers  who  were  leli  to  be  trans- 
ported   back   to  their  own   states,    to   be  cared 
for    among   those  who    knew  them,    by  their 
own    princes,    under    British    supervision.     But 
this  only  localised  the  calamity.     As  the  weeks 
crept  on,  the  groan  of  humanity  rose  and  swelled; 
the  sight  of  naked  and  starving  creatures  was 
daily  at  our  doors;  wheeled  traffic  in  the  district 
had   greatly    lessened;    the   hum   of  life  in  the 
market-place  began  to  cease;  the  vessels  went 
less  often  to  the  well;  and  after  many  vain  ap- 
pe.ils  to  the  gods  the  temples  were  deserted. 

Few  people  are  less  prepared  to  meet  the  dis- 
tress of  a  severe  famine  than  those  of  India. 
There  are  manv  accessories  to  the  lack  of  rain 
v/hich  add  to  famine's  calamitous  results.     The 


When  Sk 


ics  arc  Brass 


225 


I 


fatalistic  spirit  which   pervades  all  li.;1ia  seems, 
spite  of  many  lessons,  to  paralyse  all  t-n  Jcrcy  to 
forethought  and  the  curbing  of  extravagant  ex- 
penditure, so  that  in  the  day  of  need  thea^  are  no 
resources.     When  the  severe  distress  came  on. 
it  found  even  the  wells  not  deepened  nor  new 
ones  dug.  so  that  in  many  parts  the  suffering 
from   lack  of  water  was  most  acute.     The  com- 
parative impossibility  of  persuading  the  conserv- 
ative cultivators  of  India  to  leave  the  congested 
districts,    which     have     been     their    traditional 
homes,  and  make  a  home  for  themselves  in  the 
!css  densely  populated  parts  of  the  land  is  an- 
other contributor  to  the  severity  of  famine.     Nor 
are  these  the  only  elements  of  suffering  due  to 
the  nation's  slavery  to  custom.     In  times  of  fam- 
ine caste  fanaticism  magnifies  the  evil,  not  merely 
by  its  callousness  to  the  suffering  of  others,  but 
by  adding  to  the  complexity  of  the  problem  of 
relief. 

Though  no  political  element  in  the  ques- 
tion has  been  too  uncertain  or  too  involved  to 
escape  the  argus  eye  and  frankly-critical  pen  of 
the  newspaper  correspondent,  but  few  of  them 
seem  to  realise  that  back  both  of  these  ana  che 
providences  of  nature,  are  peculiarities  in  the 
character  of  the  people,  which  are   perhaps  the 


226  Village   Work   in  India 

greatest  and  most  difllcult  factor  of  all.     Behind 
all  this  again  is  the  sorrowful  conviction  that  the 
Hindu  in  the  hour  of  his  dire  extremity  has  no 
spiritual  stay,  no  "shadowof  a  rock"  in  the  whole 
sunburnt  waste  of  devastation,     in  a  village  near 
to  Barwai,  a  Hindu  mother  watched  with  break- 
ing heart  ner  little  ones  dying  for  lack  of  bread. 
Of  the  God  of  mercy  and  compassion  she  knew 
nothing;  the  elephant-headed  G<7;7:'i//ci  had  ever 
been  the  family  resort  in  times  of  trouble.     Ta- 
king the  bread  from  the  children's  mouths  she 
bore  it  daily  to  the  temple  and  plead  with  the 
god  for  rain.     Morning  after  morning  as  the  day 
broke  she  looked  forth  expectantly  for  an  an- 
swer to  her  prayer,  but  the  skies  remained  brass, 
and  the  breasts  of  mother  earth  were  dry.     Fear- 
ing   the    god    had    not    been    sufficiently    ap- 
peased, she  brought  of  the  few  pice  she  had  raised 
by  the  sale  of  her  household  vessels,  and  made 
him  a  more  worthy  otTcring.     Still  the  pitiless 
blue  refused  to  yield  its  rain.     The  little  ones 
grew    weaker    and  weaker    and  one  of  them 
passed  away,  but  still  the  hard  heart  of  the  god 
was  not  softened  nor  his  anger  turned  away. 
She   must  make  greater  sacrifice    the  god  de- 
manded better  ofTerings  she  was  told.     But  what 
had  she  to  give  ?    Could  they  know  what,  buried 


When  Sk 


••s  arc   Bra^s 


in  the  comer  ot  the  mud  llnor  c.f  her  h 


ouse 


227 


sht 


was  keepin^r  .,g.,inst  the  last  stroke  of  this  terri- 
ble doom  ?  It  was  only  a  tawdry  piece  of  native 
jewellry,  a  silver  earrin-,  but  it  was  a  marriage 
present,  a  reminder  of  the  happiest  day  of  her 
life,  and  to  her  it  meant  wealth. 

Must  this  also  be  given  up  ?     But  she  would 
do  anything  to  save  her  boy.     I.n  tears  the  last 
fond  treasure  was  unearthed,  and  bearing  it  to 
the  temple  she  laid  it  before  the  god.     Tw^o  days 
she  waited  but  no  help  came;   the  morning  of 
the  third  day  she  arose  and  her  son  was  dead. 
She  was  only  an  ignorant  Hindu  woman,  but  she 
had  a  mother's  heart  and  it  was  broken.     A  mad 
frenzy  seized  upon  her,  and  mixing  up  the  coarse 
mud   and  straw  with   which  she  plastered  her 
tloor.  she  carried  it  to  the  temple  and  smeared  the 
image  of  the  god  from  his  elephant  head  to  his 
ugly   feet.     When  we   reached   the  village   the 
Brahmins   were    considering  what    punishment 
would  be  meet  for  such  an  awful  affront  to  the 
sacred  person  of  the  god. 

Like  the  wolf,  famine  never  hunts  alone;  and 
Its  fell  companions  are.  if  anything,  worse  than 
Itself.  Scarcity  of  water  had  driven  many  to 
haunt  the  stagnant,  slimy  pools  in  the  river 
bottoms.     One  could  see  them  when  ihev  were 


ziH  Village  Work   in   liulia 

not  iK-Ki'l^;  in  llu-  baAuu,  >;iuupca  au.und  these 
tilthy   holes,   Iheir   .-.ciufuluus    heads    and   naked 
frames  bent  over  between  their  skeleton  lunbs. 
And    here    it    was    that    cholera    found    them, 
reaping  with  its  switt,  sharp  sickle  not  by  ones 
or  by  tens,  but  by  hundreds  and  thousands.    1  wo 
hundred    a  day  was  the   record   of   one  town 
in     Central     India,    and     3-"^    '"     f^"''     ^^^^ 
that   of  a  town   on   its  borders.     "You  could 
stand  any  evening,"  said  one  missionary,  -'by 
the  side  of  one  of  these  pools,  and  count  from 
loc)  to  200  in  all  stages  of  disease;  and  the  only 
attention   most   of  them  received  was  to  have 
th.ir  bodies  carted  away  when  they  died."     1  he 
mcalculable  agonies  that  these  pools  witnessed 
with  their  last  few  drops  will  never  be  told,  for 
it  be--ars  description.     One  can  tell  the  story  of 
some^^'starving  tenement  dwellers  for  he  has  the 
lurid  Imhts  of  contrast;  but  when  it  is  not  one 
but  millions,  when  the  whole  landscape  is  one 
dull  grey  of  want  and  suffering,  the  pen  tails  and 
the  camera  will  not  focus. 

In  cold  statistics  •'This  famine,"  to  quote  the 
viceroy  concerning  the  last  visitation,  "  withm 
the  range  of  its  incidence,  has  been  the  severest 
that  India  has  ever  known.  ...  It  has 
affected   an  area  of  over  400,000  square  miles. 


W'luii  Skies  arc  Brass 


129 


and  a  popul.iliijii  ut  about  bo.cjoo.oijo,  of  whom 
25,000,000  bclon^^  to  British  India  and  the  re- 
mainder to  native  states.  Within  this  area  the 
famine  conditions  have,  during  the  greater  part 
of  the  year,  been  intense.  Outside  it  they  have 
extended,  with  ;i  gr:!dualiy  dwindhng  radius, 
over  wide  districtj.  .  .  .  In  a  greater  or  less 
degree  nearly  one-fourth  of  the  entire  population 
of  the  Indian  continent  have  come  within  the 
range  of  famine  operations.  ...  At  normal 
prices  the  loss  was  at  least  seventy-five  crores,  or 
50,000,000  sterling.  ...  It  was  not  merely  a 
crop  failure,  but  a  fodder  famine  on  an  enormous 
scale,  followed  in  many  parts  by  a  positive 
devastation  of  cattle  .  .  .  both  plough  cat- 
tle, buffaloes  and  milk  kine.  In  other  words  it 
affected,  and  may  almost  be  said  to  have  an- 
nihilated, the  working  capital  of  the  agricultural 
classes." 

But  if  this  famine  has  been  th«.  .most  ex- 
ceptional in  history,  the  system  for  its  relief  has 
been  no  less  so.  Considering  the  vastness  of  its 
scale  and  the  nature  of  those  relieved,  there  has 
probably  never  been,  in  the  whole  history  of 
calamities,  a  more  excellent  or  better  worked 
system  of  alleviation.  The  immediate  cause  of 
famine  is  of  course  drought  or  the  failure  of  the 


^30 


ViUap 


Work   in   Iiulia 


annual    rainfall,   the   ctkct   .-t   whiJi   in   a  land 
wh-.-rc   nuK-ly  pt-r   cent,   ut    the    population   are 
agriculturists,  is  not  niLMcly  to  cut  of!  the  supply 
and  raise  the  price  of  food,  but  to  deprive  a  large 
proportion  of  the  community  of  their  source  of 
labour.     The  Indi.in  government  has  sought  to 
meet  this  recurring  ditiiculty  of  a  .'allure  of  the 
monsoons    by    developing,   wherever    possible, 
immense  systems  of  irrigation.     More  than  2q,- 
000,000  acres,  or  21.2   per   cent,   of   the  entire 
cultivates  area  of  India,  were  returned  in  1891  as 
irrigated;  and,  as  the  viceroy  said  in  his  address 
on  the  !  ite  famine.  "  All  the  possible  schemes  of 
this  character  are  well  known  and  are  gradually 
being  undertaken."    Tank  storage  is  of  course 
everywhere  possible,  and  the  digging  of  these  is 
ont  of  the  chief  forms  of  relief  work.     Bui  their 
eflicacy   is  limited;  one  lank  may  destroy  an- 
other,  the   soil   may   become   waler-logged,    or 
with  an  evaporation  Ib.it  is  often  twelve  times 
the  rate  of  consumption,  the  supply  wMl  rapidly 

disappear. 

The  question  of  food  supply  has  now  been 
virtually  solved  by  the  inauguration  of  a  system 
of  railway  intercommunication  which  covers  the 
whole  of  India,  and  whose  efficacy  was  seen 
in    the   fact  that,    during  the   late   famine,    the 


When  Skies  arr  Br.iss 


231 


price  of  (oud  was  [m jLtically  the  s.iiiic  m  butli 
affected  aiij  unaffected  parts.  Government  is 
stiil  further  facing  the  probable  permanency  of 
the  diflt'iculty  by  raising  an  insurance  fund  against 
future  distress. 

These  more  permanent  works  still  leave  un- 
solved the  immediate  ditlicuity;  food,  however 
plentiful,  is  not  to  be  had  without  purchasing 
power,  and  this  again  is  dependent  up.  .i  some 
tempo  ary  supply  of  labour.     Indiscriminate  char- 
ity IS  both  unwise  and  impracticable.     "On  the 
one  hand,"  says  the  viceroy,   "  we  have  set  our 
faces    against    indiscriminate    and    pauperising 
charity,  and  have  endeavoured  to  insist  on  relief 
being  administrated  with  the  care  and  method 
which  we  owe  to  the  taxpayer  and  to  the  ex- 
chequer.    On  the  other  hand  we  have  been  pre- 
pared to  accept  any  expenditure  of  which  it  could 
be  shown  th:i'  it  was  required  to  save  life  or  to 
mitigate  genuine  distress."    This  relief  has  been 
afforded  by  a  system  of  relief  works,  consisting 
necessarily   of   unskilled   labour,   railway   earth- 
works, roads  and  tanks  for  the  storage  of  water; 
and  for  which  a  daily  subsistence  wage  has  been 
given,  the  willingness  to  accept  the  wage  being 
the  test  of  genuine  distress.     That  these  meas- 
ures  have   been  instrumental  in   mitigating  the 


2\i  Village  Work  in  India 

terrible  effects  of  famine  is  seen  by  a  comparison 
of  tlie  death  rates  during  the  last  famine  in  Ben- 
gal, under  native  rule,  and  the  late  unprecedented 
famine  of  ■99-'o(J.     While  the  excess  in  mortality 
in  all  the  affected  parts  of  British  India  during 
the   latter,   including  deaths  from   cholera  and 
smallpox,   were  only  730,000,   those  in   Bengal 
alone  during  the  earlier  famine  were  ten  millions, 
or  more  than  one-third  of  the  whole  population. 
The  great  mortality  during  the  late  famine  in 
n  (five  states,   as  revealed  by  the  census,  where 
the  rohef  measures  were  not  under  British  control, 
only  emphasises  the  efficacy  of  the  latter's  system. 
To  such  a  syst-m  the  missionary's reluion  was 
naturally  that  of  an  auxiliary.     Government  offi- 
cials were  glad  of  the  aid  of  the  missionaries  in 
carrying  out  their  plan  of  relief;  their  knowledge 
of  the  people  and  wide  intluence  were  to  them 
invaluable.     Many  were  called  on  to  superintend 
hospitals  and  relief  canps,  and  in  not  a  few  cases 
the  missionaries  were  the  only  Europeans  in  a 
position  to  reach  certain  classes.     The  Bhils  and 
other  aborigine?    who  are  looked  upon  by  the 
ordinary  native  orficial  as  worthless  creatures  of 
the  jungle,  found  their  best  friends  among  the 
missionaries    several  of  whom  laid  down  their 
lives  c  ".  their  behalf.     Missionaries  carried  on  not 


When  Skies  ure  Brass 


233 


a  little  relief  work  on  their  own  account;  they 
were  also  the  instrumentality  in  distributing  much 
of  the  relief  in  foodstuffs,  etc.,  sent  from  America 
and  Great  Britain.  Of  no  little  value  was  the 
medical  relief  given  at  nearly  every  Mission  sta- 
tion; for  the  scourge  of  famine  is  not  confined 
to  mere  inanition,  it  is  more  desi/uctive  in  the 
many  diseases  that  follow  in  its  train.  But  per- 
haps the  greatest  service  the  missionaries  were 
able  to  perform  was  in  the  rescue  and  care  of  the 
children.  The  primary  importance  of  rescuiiig 
the  coming  generation  of  India's  labourers  need 
not  be  emphasised;  a  it  was  a  work  requiring 
such  care  in  detail,  for  many  of  them  had  to  be 
nursed  like  infanis,  as  could  better  be  given  under 
the  personal  supervision  of  the  missionary  than 
in  a  temporary  government  workhouse.  Many 
of  these  returned  to  their  villages  as  soon  as  the 
stress  was  over,  but  many  were  left  with  the 
missionary  to  teach  and  train  to  some  means  of 
livelihood,  and  in  many  cases  to  win  fo--  the 
Kingdom  of  Cliiist.  It  was  helpful  to  know 
that  in  this  work  we  had  the  sympathy  not  only 
of  the  Supreme  Government  but  also  of  many  of 
the  native  states,  one  c  them,  the  State  of  Dhar, 
giving  a  grant  of  boi..  land  and  money  for  the 
purpose. 


2 '^4  Village   Work   in  India 

The  value  of  the  missionary  agency,  as  a  means 
of  relief  to  the  famine  sufferers,  was  singled  out 
for  special  commendation  by  Lord  Curzon  in  his 
speech    before   the   Legislative   Council   already 
quoted.     "Particularly,"  he  says,  "must!  men- 
tion the  noble  efforts  of  the  various  Christian 
denominations,     if  ever  theie  was  an  occasion  in 
which  their  local  knowledge  and  influence  were 
likely  to  be  ot  value,  and  in  which  it  was  open 
to  them  to  vindicate  the  highest  standards  of 
their  beneficent  calling,  it  was  here;  and  stren- 
uously and  faithfully  have  they  performed  the 
task."    To  this  may  be  added  the  evidence  of  a 
disinterested  witness,  the  correspondent  of  The 
Bombay  Times,  who,  in  reporting  the  state  of 
affairs  in  Gujurat,  says:    "The  case  of  the  vil- 
lagers would  have  been  hard  indeed  but  for  the 
intervention  of  the  Padri  Sahib  (missionary)  and 
the  relief  fund.     One  of  the  brightest  features 
which  breaks  the  monotony  of  a  tour  through 
the  famine  districts  is  the  constant  evidence  of 
the    grand  self-abnegation    and    heroic    single- 
mindedness   with  which    the  missionaries  as  a 
body  have  risen  to  the  great  opportunity  afforded 
by  this  visitation.     Their  labours  have  not  been  in 
vain.     The  comparison  between  the  benevolent 
activity  of  the  foreign  propagandi.st  and  the  cold, 


When  Skies  are  Brass 


235 


callous  neglect  of  their  wealthy  fellow-country- 
men, has  not  been  lost  upon  the  Indian  mind, 
and  from  this  time  missionary  enterprise  will 
command  an  appreciative  and  sympathetic  ad- 
miration from  the  native,  instead  of  jealous  and 
suspicious  scepticism.  It  was  good  to  see  eyes 
glow  and  faces  kindle  with  gratitude  as  the  hardy 
ryots  recounted  the  tale  of  the  Padri  Sahib's 
munificence." 

Over  against  this  however  must  be  set  the  fact 
that  with  all  that  was  done  the  loss,  especially  in 
the  native  states,  was  terrible.  It  is  estimated 
that  from  thirty  to  fifty  per  cent,  of  the  Bhils  have 
perished  and  the  destitution  among  those  re- 
maining is  appalling.  Most  distressing  i>  the 
fact  set  forth  in  the  following  words  of  a  mis- 
sionary among  these  people:  "Can  you  imagine 
the  loss  of  so  many  starving  and  our  hands 
crowded  ?  We  could  not  do  more  than  touch  a 
little  adjoining  circle,  while  the  great  sea  of  need 
lay  all  around.  More  than  that,  while  we  were 
so  busy  with  the  temporal  needs  and  none  to 
help,  we  could  not  do  for  them  spiritually  what 
was  demanded  by  the  situation."  And  again, 
"The  death  of  these  numbers,  to  say  nothing  of 
the  thousands  and  thousands  we  never  saw, 
whose  bones  now  whiten  the  valley  and  hill, 


236  Village  Work  in  Imii:i 

might  have  been  saved  if  %ve  had  only  had  more 
men  to  help."     Hven  the  words  of  commenda- 
tion above  quoted  are  not  to  be  viewed  from  the 
standpoint   of  satisfaction  but  of  opportunity. 
The  famine  problem  is  not  closed  with  the  ad- 
vent of  the  rains  and  new  crops,  nor  its  fruits 
gathered  with  the  rescue  and  care  of  the  many 
orphans  thrust   upon   our  hands.      These  awa- 
kened sympathies  and  new-born  opportunities  are 
a  call  to  the  Church  to  evangelise  tnese  districts 
and  bring  to  their  starving  souls  the  Bread  of 

Life.  .  ^   . 

Not  only  so;  as  with  government  so  with  the 
missionary  propaganda,  famine  is  assuming  the 
niture  of  a  factor  in  the  problem,  whose  con- 
stant recurrence  demands  a  policy.    Not  an  inde- 
pendent policy  of  temporal  relief,  which  can  best 
be  determined  by  the  Imperial  authorities,  but  a 
,,olicy.  the  main  feature  of  which  shall  be  a  suf- 
ficient force  not  only  to  be  able  to  cooperate 
with  government  in  her  plan  of  relief  and  dis- 
tribute the  funds  and  food  put  into  their  hands 
from  abroad,  but  also  to  be  able  to  handle  the 
children  that  famine  thrusts  upon  our  care  and 
enter  on  the  opportunities  it  affords  for  preach- 
ing the  gospel.     For  this  we  must  all  recognise. 
that  whatever  may  be  done  for  India's  poor  po- 


When  Skirs  arc  Brass 


237 


H 


•n 


y. 


litically.  they  will  never  rise  from  their  degrada- 
tion without  a  change  of  character  3nd  a  new 
dynamic,  and  these  are  only  to  .>e  f  Dund  in  the 
gospel  of  Jesus  Christ. 

The   fight   with   famine   is   a   hart!   fight,  the 
strain  on  strength  and  heart  is  severe,  but  it  is 
not  in  vain.     Concerning  one  of  our  missionaries 
another  wrote:  "But  when  1  tell  you  that  when 
he  falls  asleep,   he  keeps  dreaming  of  starving 
Bhils  and  is  awakened  by  the  crying  of  some  one 
suffering  from  cholera;  then  finds  that  he  him- 
self has  dysentery;  gets  up  and  takes  medicine; 
lies  down  again  to  dream  of  '-"-stributing  grain' 
you  will  see  that  he  cannot  go  on  long  at  that 
rate."    Cheerfully,  manfully,  some  of  them  fought 
it  out  at  the  distant  outposts,  alone  with  their 
great  hungry  families  in  the  midst  of  pain,  foul- 
ness and  selfishness,  till  they  themselves  were 
called  on  to  yield  their  lives  to  the  last  fell  stroke 
of  cholera.     What  a  touchingly  noble  picture 
that  piercing  noonday  sun  of  the  19th  of  May 
looked  down  upon,  out  in  the  lonely  Bhil  jungle. 
Far  from    home,   surrounded   by  none   but   his 
native  attendants,  the  still  young  missionary  lay 
dying  in  the  shadow  of  a  tree  bv  the  roadside, 
stricken   down   in   his   round   of  relief  by  that 
awful  scourge.     Such  lives  have  not  been  given 


2^8 


\'illagc  Work   in   India 


in  vain  and  such  appeals  to  the  heart  of  India 
have  not  remained  unan->wered.  The  great  heart 
of  Christ,  as  it  bled  afresh  over  India's  famine 
stricken  millions,  has  been  awakening  them  to  a 
realisation  that  the  incarnate  love  of  God  dwells 
in  Him,  and  that  He,  the  true  Avatar,  is  the  so- 
lution of  their  problem,  the  Light  for  their  dark- 
ness, and  the  rest  for  their  weary  and  heavy 
laden  hearts. 


XV 

THE    PROBLEM 

It  seems  fitting  that  I  should  close  these  ran- 
dom  sketches  by  a  plain  statement  of  the  prob- 
lem  as   it   appears   from   the    view-pomt  of    a 
village  preacher.     In  the  previous  chapters  I  have 
made  no  attempt  to  be  either  historical,  statistical 
or  even  argumentative,  it  has  been  my  endeavour 
10  make  impressions,     if  1  have  succeeded  at  all. 
I  have  given  some  idea  of  the  immensity  of  the 
work,   of  the  great  density  of  the  people,  and 
especially,  as  compared  with  western  lands    of 
the  village  population.     I  have  attempted  to  give 
in  however  meagre  a  way,  some  account  of  the 
spiritual  thralldom  of  the  village  people  and  of 
the  utter  hopelessness  of  any  salvation  coming  to 
them  from  within  Hinduism.     I  have  stated  it  as 
my  conviction,  based  not  only  on  faith  but  per- 
sonal experience  for  several  years  that  the  gospel 
IS  the  "Power  of  God  unto  salvation"  to  these 
village  people,  whether  educated  or  uneducated 
that  all  are  open  to  its  inHuence,  and  that  from 
all  classes  men  are  being  saved  by  its  message. 

2^9 


240  N'illa^r   Work    in    Imli.i 

I   hjvc  furtluM    stated  it  as  my  conviction  that 
•tiie     foolislmfss    of    preaching"    is    still    the 
method   which,   by  divine  grace,   is  best  fitted 
for  reaching  mens  hearts  with  the  gospel  mes- 
sage.    It  has  been  objected  by  even  such  a  le- 
markable  convert  as  Fr.   Goreh  that  the  village 
people  are  'ignorant  and  do  not  understand." 
Surely  if  the  village  people  do  not  understand  it 
is  not  the  fault  of  the  gospel.     Christianity  is  not 
Vedantism,  it  is  neither  abtrusi    nor  recondite, 
and    its    simplicity   has    ever  been   its   greatest 
claim,     if  the  people  do  not  understand  it  is  not 
the  fault  of  the  message  but  the  messenger,  and 
his  failure  to  enter  into  touch  with  their  view- 
point and  modes  of  expression,  and  can  be  over- 
come by  a  closer  and  more  sympathetic  study  of 
the    people.     For   this  very   reason   as   well   as 
others,  I  have  sought  to  emphasise  the  necessity 
for   a   fuller   development   of  a   native   agency, 
through   whom    the    missionary   shall   multiply 
himself  and  upon  whom  shall  gradually  fall  the 
whole  burden  of  the  work. 

My  silence  =n  regard  to  other  methods  of 
mission  work  is  not  of  the  nature  of  criticism.  I 
recognise  that  in  the  great  problem  ol  the  world's 
redemption  God's  ways  are  many  and  His  gifts 
many.     The  only  qualification  1  would  make  is 


Th<-   r^ohlfm 


241 


that   of  Dr.   Dennis,  that  while   the  evanpehstic 
aim  must  not  be  tc-KardeJ  as  nionopoHsed  by  the 
evangelistic  meih^d,  it  should  itself  pervade  all 
Other  methods.     There  are  always  two  d.uigers 
in  mission  work.  one.  that  of  making  the  means, 
whether    it    be    education,     medicine,    or    everi 
preaching,  an  end  in  itself;  and  the  other  that  of 
over     institutionalising.      There     is    a    glamour 
about  an  mstitution,  whether  schoJ,  orphanage 
01  hospital,  in  its  regular  duties.  lU  coditi.d  re- 
sults, and  its  appeal  to  the  eye,  a  glamour  that  is 
fostered   by   the   pul 'ic   cravin.r   for   something 
definite,    something    they   .an   see,    and  whose 
results  are  tangible.     We  mist  learn  to  judge  all 
institutions  not  in  themselve.,  nor  in  cor  panson 
with  those  of  a  similar  k:nd,  but  :n  their  relation 
to  the  one  end  and  a:.n  0,  all  mission  work;  and 
to  develop  them  accordingly. 

With  a  population  of  nearly  300,000,000,  in- 
creasing at  the  rate  of  one  per  cent,  or  3,oc.,,ooo 
per  annum.'  and  a  Christian  population  of  only 
2.ooo,.x)o  or  fiftv-five  per  cent,  of  whom  onlv 
560.000,  ,     sixteen  per  cent,  are  Protestants,  the 

•  The   much  d„nin>shcd  increase  of  ,!:e  past   decade,  be.,. 

change  ,h.s  -frnate  drawn  fron,  „..  previous  „ve,Uy  yenrs   n's 
he  crcun.tan.cs  .„e  pe,.  dia-    .nciuc'ing  dur,n«  .he'.en  vears 
two  icvete  famines  and  plague. 


2_^2  Villa-r   Work   in    India 

paramount  dulv   m   the  .i.complishment  of  this 
n„„  of  missions  m  India  is  the  bringing  of  Jesus 
Christ  into  su.n  duect  contact  with  the  masses 
that   thev    mav  be   able   to   intelligently   receive 
Hun      As  ninety  per  cent,  of  these,  or  270.(X)0.- 
cxx)  live  in  the  villages,  the  large  proportion  of 
missionary  effort  should  llow  m  this  direction. 
It  has  therefore  been  my  endeavour  to  give  some 
idei    of    the   claims   and   opportunities   for  the 
evangehsation  of  the  villages.     As  the  place  of  a 
native  agency  in  the  fulfillment  of  this  purpose  is 
strategical,    some    plan    for    their   training   and 
development  is   of   greatest   importance,    as   are 
also  the  building  up  of  the  native  church  and  the 
industrial,  intellectual  and  spiritual  training  of  the 
Christian  community:  but  we  must  allow  none  of 
these  to  sidetrack  us  from  the  main  movement 
among  the  masses  in  the  villages. 

As  to  what  is  being  done  for  the  villages  of 
India  it  is  ditlicult  to  procure  exact  statistics; 
probably  not  more  than  fifty  per  cent,  of  the 
whole  foreign  staff,  or  about  i,ao  missionaries 
-,re  engaged  in  this  work,  giving  one  to  about 
.70,000  of  the  people.  What  this  means  to  the 
accomplishment  of  the  work  mav  best  be  seen 
bv  a  concrete  example.  It  has  beon  mv  custom 
to  keep  a  record  of  all  the  meetings  held  in  con- 


The    Prohlrin 


-^4^) 


nectioii  with  our  iv.m^fiNtu   work  in  my  own 
tit-'ld.      TIk-    reports  show  tliat   in  one  yen    liio 
gospel  was  prc.idu'd  bv  my  live  iulpcrs  and  my- 
self  to   about    lO.ooo   people.     Ot    these   about 
8,000  were  women,  14,000  children  and  the  rest 
men.     This  number  was  reached  m  about  i,i(x> 
ditTerent  meetings,  exclusive  of  all  congregational 
and  Sunday-school  services.     Allowing  Sundavs 
for   these   services,  and   the   classes   during  the 
rains,    this    would    give,    with     two    or    three 
preachers  present  at  each  meetmg,  an  average 
of   two   meetings   daily  to   each   man,  together 
with  all  the  journeying  involved.     The  largest 
attendance  of  the  year  under  review  was  300, 
many  meetings  had  less  than  twenty,  some  less 
than  ten,  the  average  being  about  forty.     More- 
over of  these  so,ooo  people,  many  were  counted 
several  times,  as  some  places  were  reached  almost 
weekly.     I   have  estimated  that  in  the  western 
half  of  Central  India,  our  mission,  with  a  staff  of 
twenty-five  missionaries  and  all  their  agencies, 
does  not  reach,  even  with  a  single  gospel  mes- 
sage a  year,  more  than   ^oo.cxx)  out  of  a  popu- 
lation of  =,,000,000,  or  at  most  about  six  per  cent., 
and  out  of  17,000  villages  we  occupy  permanently 
only  eighteen. 
One  would  like  to  believe  that  the  state  of 


244  Village  Work  in  India 

affairs  in  Central  InJia  is  exceptional,  and  that  in 
other  parts  the  population  is  more  fully  reached. 
The  perusal  of  such  a  tract  as  that  publisned  in 
1896  by  Mr.  R.  P.  Wilder,  entitled  "An  Appeal 
for  India,"  shatters  an>  such  hope.  T^ike  such 
facts  as  the  following:  In  the  Nizam's  domin- 
ions, with  a  population  of  ii.^oo.cxx),  there  are 
only  about  thirty  missionaries,  in  the  Telegu 
part  one  missionary  to  about  ^00,000  people.  In 
the  Poona  district,  out  of  i,iQi  towns  and  vil- 
lages, i,ifc>9  have  no  resident  Christian,  and 
very   rarely   are  visited  by  a  messenger  of  the 

gospel. 

Kathiawar  has  three  missionaries  to  3,000,000 
people.  Thousands  have  never  heard  of  Christ. 
Kutch,  said  to  have  the  population  of  Uganda, 
has  never  had  a  missionary. 

In  central  provinces,  C'.iandi,  with  an  :'rca  of 
10,74a  square  miles,  with  2,700  villages,  and  a 
population  of  over  b90,(XX),  has  no  missionary. 

Rajpore  has  s.oi.o.ooo  population,  and  only 
twelve  missionaries. 

Bhopal,  with  2,000,000  people,  has  just  been 
opened  to  the  gospel. 

Behar,  with  its  vast  population  of  ?.",  00,000. 
has  only  six  European  missionaries.  Quite  half 
of  the  province  is  as  much  heathen  ..s  any  other 


The  Problem 


245 


part  of  the  world,  having  never  yet  even  heard 

the  sound  of  the  gospel. 
Dacca  has  a  staff  of  two  missionaries  and  four 

evangelists   to  2,409,000  people.     Tipperah  has 

four  ladies  among  a  population  of  i,soo,ooo,  and 

Pubnah.  with  3,000,000,  has  five  missionaries. 
Ballia,    m  the  Northwest    Province,    with    a 

population  of  924,76;;,  is  entirely  unoccupied. 
Rajputana  has  a  population  of  over  12,000,000, 

with  only  twenty-four  Euro,  ean  missionaries  at 

work. 
And  these  are  only  a  few  of  the  telling  facts 

relate'.,  facts  upon  which  the  lapse  of  five  years 

has  made  no  material  impression. 

Another  important  element  in  the  problem  of 
India's  evangelisation  is  the  proportion  of  foreign 
to  native  agency  necessary  for  the  accomplish- 
ment of  the  work.  This  native  agency  in 
evangelistic  work  must  be  carefully  distin- 
guished from  the  native  pastorate.  All  mission- 
aries are  agreed  in  the  advisability  of  the  native 
church  supporting  its  own  pastors,  but  the  pas- 
tors of  a  poor  and  scattered  flock  numbering 
only  sixteen  per  cent,  of  the  population,  even  if 
they  had  much  time  to  spare  from  their  pastoral 
duties,  can  form  but  a  small  element  in  the  solu- 
tion   of    the    problem.     A    native    evangelistic 


>46 


Villafre  Work  in  India 


agency,  associated  with  each  missionary  and  as 
a  part  of  the  mission's  staff,  is  the  only  aid  to  be 
rehed  upon  besides  the  foreign  staff.  Except  in 
the  older  missions  the  supply  for  such  an  agency 
is  still  very  limited,  and  can  only  be  increased  as 
the  Holy  Spirit  chooses  out  men  from  among  the 
new  converts.  It  will  be  many  years  however 
before  the  proportion  of  native  workers  will 
grow  so  large  that  we  will  be  able  to  lessen  our 
demands  for  foreign  aid;  and  still  longer  before 
the  native  contingent  will  be  able  to  dispense 
with  the  inspiration,  instruction  and  supervision 
supplied  by  the  foreign  missionary. 

Mr.  John  R.  Mott  took  a  consensus  of  opinion 
from  all  the  great  mission  fields  last  year 
on  the  question  of  the  absolute  demand  for 
missionaries  in  addition  to  native  assistants.  He 
says  in  his  late  work  "  The  Hvangehsation  uf  the 
World,"  ••Leading  authorities  in  all  the  great 
mission  fields  have  been  asked  to  estimate  how 
many  missionaries,  in  .iddition  to  native  assist- 
ants, would  be  required  so  to  lead  the  mission- 
ary ente;  prise  as  to  accomplish  the  evangelisation 
of  these  countries  within  a  generation.  The 
highest  number  suggested  by  any  one  is  one 
missionary  to  every  lo.cxxi  of  the  heathen  popu- 
lation.    Few  gave  a  lower  estimate  than  one  to 


The  Problem 


>    1  -T 

-4/ 


ioo,(xx).  The  average  number  given  is  one  to 
50,000.  The  number  most  frequently  specified 
is  one  to  20,000."  Mr.  i*lott  in  his  computation 
of  the  needs  follows  the  last  figure,  which  would 
give  for  India  a  staff  of  1  s, 000  foreign  mission- 
ari''s,  or  an  increase  of  7S0  per  cent. 

I  e  work,  however  great  its  requirements,  is 
not  without  its  encouragements.  Even  in  the 
matter  of  numbers  the  Protestant  community  in 
India  increased  during  the  period  between  the 
censuses  of  '71  and  'qi  at  the  rate  of  los  per  cent, 
while  the  general  population  had  grown  only  by 
twenty  per  cent.  But  this  in  no  way  represents 
the  only  effect  of  missions.  A  great  change  has 
gone  on  in  the  hearts  of  the  people  towards 
Christianity.  Years  of  contact  with  its  teachers 
and  adherents,  kindness  received  especially  dur- 
ing famine  times  from  the  missionaries,  the 
gradual  effect  of  the  constant  preaching  of  higher 
ideals,  and  especially  the  presence  in  their  midst 
of  men,  whose  whole  character  and  life  have 
been  transformed  and  uplifted  by  this  new  doc- 
trine, have  had  their  effect  in  softening  the  hearts 
of  the  people  to  the  gospel  message.  Agam,  as 
Sir  Charles  Elliott,  the  former  Lieutenant  Gov- 
ernor )f  Bengal,  said  in  a  recent  paper  before  the 
Ch's-ch  Congress  in  England,    "The  caste  and 


>48 


Villafre  Woik   in  India 


family  inlluence — which  are  a>  powerful  among 
the  low  as  amonn;  the  high  castes— are  immense 
impediments  to  conversion:  it  is  to  this  we  owe 
a  large  number  of  the  'Borderers'  who,  while 
almost  convinced  at  heart,  shrink  from  a  final 
break  with  the  relationships  they  hold  so  dear." 
Such  a  class  is  not  only  a  testimony  to  the  uii- 
chronicled  results  of  missions  in  India,  but  also 
to  the  sincerity  of  those  who,  in  the  face  of  such 
opposition,  have  had  the  courage  to  confess 
Christ. 

As  to  the  character  of  the  converts  the  same 
paper  said:  "The  great  mass  of  our  converts 
belong  to  the  aboriginal  tribes  whose  animistic 
religions  rest  entirely  on  the  basis  of  fear,  so  that 
the  doctrine  of  a  God  of  love  has  for  them  an 
infinite  attraction,  and  they  find  it  comparatively 
easy  to  leave  their  ancestral  faiths.  .  .  .  Their 
characters  are  simple  and  their  mental  grasp  is 
small ;  and  it  cannot  oe  expected  of  them  that  they 
should  rise  to  any  height  of  devotion.  .  .  . 
But  conversion  has  placed  their  feet  on  the  first 
step  of  religious  growth.  They  are  removed 
from  debasing  superstitions  and  from  an  atmos- 
phere in  which  immorality  is  licensed  to  one  in 
which  every  impulse  received  from  their  leaders 
is  in  the  direction  of  moral  and  intellectual  im- 


■^ 


The  Problem 


249 


provement.  For  those  who  Ij:  long  to  the  Arvan 
races  we  can  make  a  stronger  claim,  for  they 
have  in  ..imost  every  i_ase  come  through  strong 
tribulation  into  the  Kingdom  of  God." 

Straws  show  w.iich  way  the  current  sets. 
During  ly  convalescence  from  a  late  severe  ill- 
ness, the  Hindu  barber  remarked  to  .ne:  "It 
was  God  (using  the  term  for  the  une  God)  who 
sa.ed  you,  Sahib;  all  we  people  in  the  bazaar 
have  been  praying  for  you."  Travelling  some 
months  ago  in  the  same  railway  carriage  with  a 
native  official  in  Indore  State,  he  remarked  dur- 
ing conversation:  "I  myself  am  too  old  to  be- 
come a  Christian,  but  I  believe  that  in  a  few 
years  our  children  will  all  accept  your  faith." 
Another  evidence  of  this  unchronicled  power  is 
in  the  great  numbers  who  in  the  villages,  where 
the  gospel  has  been  preached,  have  g.ven  up 
idolatry.  Even  more  sij^nificant  perhaps  is  the 
great  interest  shown,  especially  by  the  young 
men  of  India,  in  the  person  of  Christ;  though 
they  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  our  church 
organisations  and  shrink  from  the  idea  of  bap- 
tism, they  devour  most  eagerly  any  literature  on 
the  person  and  work  of  Jesus.  No  book  is  in  as 
many  hands  in  India  to-day  as  the  gospel,  and  no 
name  looms  as  largely  on   the   horizon  of  the 


250 


Village  Work   in   India 


thoughts   of  her   pcuple   as   the   name  of  Jesus 
Christ. 

With  a  people  so  heterogeneous,  not  only  in 
origin  but  disposition,  with  such  a  kaleidoscope 
of  religious  cults  and  systems,  with  social  bar- 
riers like  caste  and  so  many  petritied  customs, 
and  with  a  false  patriotism  that  clings  to  the  old 
because  it  is  national  and  refuses  the  new  be- 
cause it  is  alien,  the  problem  in  In.'ia  is  perhaps 
the  most  dil'ticuit  in  Mission  history.  But  if  dif- 
ficult of  conquest,  India  is  correspondingly  stra- 
tegic in  its  position.  The  birthplace  of  two  of 
the  greatest  religious  movements  of  history,  the 
home  of  more  than  one-fourth  of  the  Mohamme- 
dans of  the  world,  and  containing  one-fifth  of 
the  population  of  the  world,  its  conquest  for 
Christianity  is  fraught  with  great  meaning  to  the 
world  problem.  Moreover  never  before  were  its 
doors  so  open  to  Christian  missions.  In  almost 
every  portion  of  the  Empire  may  organised  mis- 
sion work  be  carried  on.  the  State  of  Bhopal 
being  among  the  last  to  open  their  doors.  From 
every  part  of  ♦lie  ticld  c^mtc  news  of  strategic 
positions  waiting  for  l.ibourers.  A  few  years  ago 
we  were  invited  bv  the  prime  minister  of  one  of 
the  unoccupied  states  of  Centr.il  India  to  begin 
work  within  his  jurisdiction;  and  several  times 


The   Problem 


2^1 


during  the  past  few  years,  exceptional  oppor- 
tunities for  entrance  into  some  of  the  larger 
towns  of  our  field  have  been  afforded  us,  but  we 
have  been  unable  to  accept  theni  because  of  the 
limitations  of  our  staff. 

On  the  other  hand  the  forces  opposed  to  the 
gospel  are  organised  as  never  before.  Orthodox 
and  Soma)  movements  alike  are  issuing  tracts; 
the  faithful  are  being  called  on  to  "Awake!  and 
oppose  the  progress  of  Christianity";  their 
preachers  follow  us  into  the  villages  proclaiming 
the  mistakes  of  Christianity;  their  educational 
policy  is  alive  and  active;  and  almost  the  whole 
native  press  is  enlisted  in  their  aid. 

Let  the  Church  face  the  problem  boldly,  fear- 
lessly and  with  calm  assurance;  let  there  be  on 
the  part  of  those  at  home  no  feverish  demand 
for  startling  results,  no  impatient  interference  in 
the  plan  of  work,  but  a  loyal  faith  in  their  -epre- 
sentatives  at  the  front,  and  a  determination  to 
give  them  prayerful  and  adequate  support.  Let 
those  on  the  Held  not  be  led  away  by  the 
glamour  of  public  approbation,  but  remember 
that  their  duty  is  to  preach  the  gospel  and  bring 
India  into  vital  contact  with  the  Living  Christ. 
God  is  behind  us,  victory  before,  in  the  name  of 
our  King  let  us  go  forward. 


/-^^ -•no"*rjo     n 


